Wandering Star
by AutumnSong
Summary: It was Fate that brought Bella and Carlisle together and her cruelty that seperated them but it was magic that intertwined their souls. When Carlisle begins to have visions, Fate picks up the thread and sends them on the long, dangerous path back to each other.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello again, I'm Autumn.**

**Summary: One moment in the past intertwined Carlisle and Bella, unbeknownst to them. Decades, death and immortal life has kept them separated but when The Cullens witness something sinister deep in the forest, fate is set in motion and Bella and Carlisle are set on the long twisted, bloody and dangerous path to each other. AU. Mostly canon couples. This fic is rated for violence, revenge, language and sex.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but this plot. Twilight and it's characters belong to SM.**

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><p>"The solemn hour before sunset, a protecting cloak for evil men and deeds of darkness."<p>

-Lorna Doone, 1922

Prologue

BPOV

Grey dense fog slithered across the labyrinth of crippled trees and snow thick on the ground. Around us, it fell from dark clouds in innocent flakes, blanketing sins and destruction with placid deception. A painfully sweet aroma hung in the bitter cold air, the pyres long since burned to cinder. Nature was deathly silent. Not the hum of wind, a hoot of owl, or the mournful bay of a lonely wolf stirred. She was indifferent, accustomed to the evils passing under her watch. The Cold Moon's Cheshire smile faded as dawn approached, taking the stars with her. By morning, all proof would be gone, forgotten, lost.

Tethered to a thick tree, I struggled to stand, powerless and bleeding freely from pin wounds. Blood and tears streaked my face and neck, joining the crimson rivulets along the curves of my body, staining what was left of my shirt. I was weakening; breathing was nearly impossible - my limbs frozen and numb with pain, my fingers raw, back scraped from where the rough bark dug into me. Reality slipped in and out of focus under our captors' watchful gaze. The future raced ahead of me in a misty web of events I could not follow, no matter how hard I tried.

_Was this what death felt like?_

I barely had the strength to plead forgiveness, but if I was dying, it felt right to ask for forgiveness.

"Forgive…me…please."

Whether Carlisle heard me in his grief or not, he gave no response, but kept his attention fixed on the ashes of his family - dove grey remnants of them on the snowy canvas. Venomous tears that would never run pooled in his black, unblinking eyes. The face I knew better than my own was set like stone, carved in eternal anguish.

He did not move.

He did not speak.

He did not acknowledge me.

It was torture, worse than what I had endured already—perhaps _this_ was death.

"P-please," I sobbed, my shattered voice ringing in the stillness. I thought of them, of the family I had lost and would never see - the family he watched burn. His pain was mine, and mine was his.

"I'm sorry…forgive me, Carlisle."

At the sound of his name, something within him flicked to life, something small and hopeful, before fading away like a curl of smoke, but he did not move from his prone state. His mind was chaotic, a Babel of thoughts and emotion.

"I'm so sorry…I never meant for this...I never wanted this for you…any of you."

From a gaggle of hunters, a hard hand whipped out from the darkness and slapped me across the cheek, ordering silence. I tasted blood, but defiantly rebelled against the order, spiting in the minion's face and spewing every curse I knew. I cursed him, his mother, his father in hell or where ever they were, his master, his kind, and every wretched soul that helped him along the way. He didn't care for curses - what devil would? His fiendish eyes gleamed, and a hungry smile curled his lips as his thoughts ran wild, knowing I could hear them, see them, feel them.

"If it were up to me," he spat, twisting my lose hair around his fist and yanking back, forcing me to meet his eyes, "you'd burn along with him."

"Go to hell, you evil bastard."

The force of his thoughts, the pleasure he'd take from the murder he'd soon commit, raged to a new level, paying specific attention to the searing heat. _This is familiar to you_, _isn't it_? The others, who stood gathered, poised to obey, whispered in inaudible mummers, guarding their minds, joined in, unleashing the hell planned for Carlisle.

Death wasn't coming for me…

"Run, Carlisle…run!" I sagged against the pain, my heart beating frantically in my chest. It couldn't end this way! It wasn't supposed to end this way! "Run, Carlisle…please. Go…Carlisle!"

They came forward, brutally dragging him from his vigil. He didn't fight. His soul too wounded, bleeding. His heart, long silent, could find no hope after decades of noble perseverance - only misery. He faced me with vacant eyes and waited for certain death. It was too familiar, too reminiscent of the past. The onslaught of his agony came in never-ending waves, pulling me under the sea of his emotions, drowning me.

I begged him to fight, but he was lost to me, unreachable.

At the edge of my mind, I felt joy, intruding foreign and almost euphoric joy, that was not my own. They took morbid pleasure in our suffering, laughing at the lives they had taken from him, from me.

Rage and fury rose within my bones, ran hot in my veins, smothering all intruding emotions. The ropes bit at my wrists, cutting my skin as I struggled and thrashed. "Touch him, and I will kill every last one of you. I will make you pay!" Tears ran hot down my face as I screamed. "Kill me, not him!"

"I think not, my dear," said the cool, thin voice abruptly at my side."This is—" The sight of me surprised him and stole the words from his ruby lips. Sharp eyes ran over my broken pale skin filled with lament - not for me, but for the blatant disregard of his authority.

"Who did this? Who drew her blood?" His command was so dark with anger, that no one dared speak. "Who disobeyed me? WHO?"

The silence was nearly deafening - they all were to blame.

In a rush of movement, their scapegoat - a tall man with long blond hair - was thrust from the group. He looked petrified; his deep boisterous voice quivered as he tried to explain. Before he could utter four words, his head was swiftly ripped from his body. His shriek of terror mingled with the grinding sound of his demise. A sardonic smile twisted my lips as I watched the broken pile of ivory limbs blaze. His fellow hunters stood in disbelief and fear.

Ironic, isn't it for murders to be so terrified at the sight of murder?

"A good solider is so hard to find these days, Isabella." Trailing an icy finger down my sternum, he leaned in closer, his rank, decaying breath wafting up my nose. "Now, where was I? Oh, right…This is long overdue for Dr. Cullen and his coven. Had he involved himself less in the affairs of…_others_, and more in those of his own kind, he might have spared his coven as well as himself."

"Family," I corrected angrily.

"_Family? _Family, she says_._" He laughed. "Silly child…there is no such thing among our kind, surely you know that."

His thoughts flowed through me like ice over my spine. I saw that he truly believed that. He showed centuries of planning, of scheming and fucking, of creating ties to meet ends, murdering. One gruesome vision after the next, infecting me with his dark soul. I could not bear it, not after the purity of Carlisle's heart. I fought against the poison, forcefully driving out his vile mind. He staggered back as if pushed, his white face distorted with a mixture of astonishment and triumph, but beneath lay anger.

"Get…the hell …away from me!"

"Ah, here I was afraid we had made a terrible mistake. How extraordinary! You are everything we hoped you would be, and so much more. So wild, beautiful, and the power I feel coming from you. Yes, you will do nicely—once we've," he took a deep breath, trailing his hocked nose along my exposed neck, "broken you in."

I recoiled, sinking into the rough bark as much as I could, letting losing a string of profanities. He regarded me for a moment with naked curiosity before facing his men.

"Step aside, so that Isabella can have a clear view."

"No! Kill me!" The words ran together in constant plea for his life. Mine for his - I would sacrifice anything. "Kill me, not him! Carlisle…please, no! Kill me!"

The veil over Carlisle's thoughts lifted away, and he called out to me with desperation I had never heard from him. His amber eyes bored into mine. _Isabella, do not force me to witness your death as well. Please._

"But I can't watch you die…not you, too! Please no…take me…take me. I love you…Please God, I'll do anything, just take me."

_My darling, some things cannot be changed. It is my time… I do not fear death. I had your love, and that has meant more to me than an endless existence without you. _"I love you, Isabella."

He bowed his pale head in prayer, oblivious to the mocking from his executioners or my words.

"NO! Carlisle, NO! Take me!"

Turning his back me, our captor addressed Carlisle."How sentimental...how very provincial of you to succumb to her charms. I thought you were better, stronger…I was wrong. Weak and useless you are, Carlisle."

I snarled, fighting with everything I had against my ties. My shoulders pulled painfully and my wrists burned, but the ropes fell away, and I sank to the floor. Carlisle's head snapped up at the sound, a ghost of a smile tugging his lips.

_Don't move, stay completely still. Once it's finished, run Bella. Hide yourself...please. _I refused. He knew I would but Carlisle was nothing if not persistent. Homes scattered around the globe, places I could vanish without a trace, bank account numbers and documents to secure my anonymity, all flickered through his mind with one objective-escape. His only wish, his only desire was that I live. For the second time tonight, his mind, his actions reminded me of the past and I could not accept it.

What value did life hold if I was to live it alone?

_Isabella! Please, for me, run, Dammit!_

"Even now, nothing is holding you, and yet, you do not fight for yourself. Pitiful."

When Carlisle spoke aloud, he did so with unwavering acceptance of what was to come. "One cannot fight fate. It will find you, no matter whom or _what_ you are. I was destined to love her. From the day I was born to the day I was born into immortal life-she was mine as I was hers."

"Fate and Destiny," he repeated, with a chuckle. "Childhood fables, woven with ignorance. These are your last words? A poor choice. Destiny, was it destiny that your "family" burn...for her. Destiny that you die for her...for this _love_?"

"You say the word with sarcasm and disbelief, you mock me. What would you know of love—a love worth waiting decades for, a love worth dying for...a love like ours? You know nothing but lust, power and greed. I suspect you'll meet your fate soon."

I could sense the hatred in his heart, the scorn and envy Carlisle's words ignited, within him. Through the eyes of his men, I saw his face twist with anger. "Enough of this!" he raged, and with flick of his wrist, the order was made. The men advanced swiftly.

"Not even _you_ can run from it."

His eyes meet mine one last time, my name on his lips and love in his heart, _I love you_, _goodbye_.

"NO!" I screamed, unable to keep silent. I lunged for him, but someone caught me by the waist and forced me to watch as he was torn to pieces, as hellish flames engulfed what was left.

It was too late...

His pain was my pain.

"Carlisle!"

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**XX**

**Autumn**


	2. Tears, Idle Tears

**A/N: Hello! New chapter everybody! I know it's been a while. I could give excuses but, life is full of them, so why should FanFic be as well.**

** **So, just to let everyone know, this chapter is takes place years and years before the prologue.**  
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**As always I own nothing but the plot and the temperamental laptop it was written on. Twilight and it's characters belong to SM.  
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**Thank you, Nacho4Children for being absolutely fantastic and doing such a great job as my beta. You are a rock star!**

**Enjoy and see you at the bottom!  
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><p>"Storm and darkness! Is it an omen?"<p>

—A Fool There Was, 1915

CPOV

There was a calming effect in rain, an unrivaled peace and solace. Even as a child, I loved it, the rain and the peace it provided. The world I knew transformed the moment that ancient vampire bit me. I couldn't go home. I lost my family. Everything changed but not this. In my darkest hours, the rain calmed me. My father used to say that rain was like a baptism, it renewed the spirit, cleansed the heart. To a certain extent, I agreed with him, but mostly, I liked the sound it made - soft rhythmic splashing on stone pavement, a melodic drops in a pond, steady beats against windows and trees. Rain was a song I enjoyed, but this spring storm did not sing a soothing note. It did not calm or renew my spirit—just the opposite, in fact.

As I watched translucent curtains of heavy rain through my study window, I felt…anxious. In frustration, I closed the book I was attempting to read and tossed it on the desk. The house was empty, silent - aside from the ticks of various clocks. Each member of the Cullen clan was off doing whatever it was that caught his or her fancy. I loved them all, dearly, but I was thankful for the brief moments of solitude, and the freedom to think and feel without burdening anyone.

For weeks now, a storm had been brewing within me, and as the days passed, more clouds gathered. My mind was scattered, thoughts murky.

What was I missing?

A flash of trees, men, and _her _angelic face—all signs pointed to the forest, but hadn't I combed it and found nothing?

My eyes lingered on the forest in question, green and mysterious. Despite the weather, the wilderness surrounding our home was too quiet, laying in wait, either for the rain to pass or something else entirely. I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it was the latter. There was no explanation for the feeling, only anticipation.

But for what?

My head twinged painfully, and my fingers flew to massage my throbbing temples. I closed my eyes, feeling the familiar tug for attention, and dull stab of an oncoming headache, vision. Did vampires even get headaches? And why now, did a gift emerge, after three centuries? Both were unprecedented. Not even Eleazar, whose forte it was to know vampiric abilities, knew what to make of it.

Jokingly, he suggested I was going mad. I laughed at the time, but I was beginning to believe his diagnosis. Perhaps I was mad.

They started years ago, and had I not known better, I would have counted them as dreams. At first, nothing was concrete, just flits of random colors and voices but then they became almost violently vivid; places, people…and her.

Her.

A smile involuntarily tugged on my lips at the thought. She was a child, an enchanting little thing that came into my life quite suddenly. I never knew the purity of a child, the honesty, or the simple joy of being around them. On occasion, I treated kids at the hospital, but she was unlike any human child I had encountered. Like an angel, she was the picture of innocence and beauty - dark, thick lashes and rosy cheeks, dark hair and pale skin dotted with freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her smile was sweet and warm with the quintessential gap that spoke of tooth fairies and childhood, though she rarely smiled. Her gaze was direct and peered through me to the heart that lay beneath.

"You're different…like me," she told me one time, poking my cold skin curiously. "I like it."

During our times together, she'd whisper things I didn't always hear, but felt deep within my heart. Sometimes, she sat in the grass, head on my knee, listening while I told her stories about princesses and dragons - long forgotten stories of my youth. Other times, she offered me things - drawings, flowers - making a friend of me, and telling me stories of her own, but they were more like dreams of hers. Then there were moments when fear gripped her small body. Tiny hands would clasp at mine, desperate to show me what she saw, what she felt. Only when rocked gently in my arms, did she relax. I never knew how long we had or how she found me, or why she was so comfortable in my presence, but I didn't dare ask. Despite her trust in me, I got the sense that she didn't know the answers to those questions either.

I didn't know if she was real or a woodland fairy creature my mind conjured to assuage the acute loneliness I felt at times, but something told me she was out there, alone. That possibility pained me.

The pain in my head doubled, and behind my eyelids, she appeared suddenly, like always, but this time the setting was very wrong. Our peaceful meeting place, strewn with flowers and trees, was replaced with an alarming scene. There had been a house at one point, but one wall with a window and a doorway was all that stood, black and sagging, in the rubble. Crows fluttered around the window and perched themselves on the crumbing facade, cawing wildly. The air felt too hot to my skin and smelled foul.

Why would she bring me here?

Sitting on the damp grass, surrounded by blue flowers and charred debris that still smoldered, was the little girl I knew.

"Hello, my dear," I called softly, but she made no move to greet me.

A book was open in her lap, her small finger tracing the script on the page, leaving a trail of soot behind. As I walked closer to her, I became aware of the state she was in - her nightgown torn, dirty and bloodied, singed at the hems, purple bruises blooming at her pale wrists and arms. Tears made tracks on blackened cheeks and fell onto the page. Lips trembled as she read a poem I had once recited to her.

Anger rose inside me; who would do this?

Crouching in front of her, the physician in me assessed her injuries, searched for the source of the dark maroon streaks on her clothes. To my relief, the only broken skin I found were three tiny round puncture wounds on the bottom of her bare foot. So the blood wasn't hers. She flinched as I realized this, but didn't comment. I asked questions she didn't bother answering. _Are you hurt? Who did this? Where are we?_ Nothing. The only words she said were the ones laid out on the crinkled page. Her head remained bowed, gorgeous eyes downcast, as if ashamed. Thin shoulders shook with the sobs she refused to let out. When she finally looked into my eyes, I gasped, unprepared for the agony I found there.

"So sad, so strange, the days that are no more." Her words sounded brittle, broken. Sniffling, she twisted a blue bud between her fingers. "Can I stay here with you, please? Maybe if stay with you …they'll be safe."

"Who will be safe, sweetheart?" I asked, gently lifting her from the ground. I held her close, rocked her back and forth, and kissed her cheeks, wiped tears…anything to comfort her. She was shaking, the poor thing.

"My family…if I stay with you...here. Please…Can I…stay with you?"

Her wide, fathomless eyes struck a chord in my heart, and for a moment, I thought that surely I had seen this look before. It seemed familiar. The word _please _fell from her mouth into the wind, soft and heartbreakingly small. I wanted nothing more than to take her home and keep her safe, but how? It simply wasn't possible, or if it was, I didn't know how to do it. And surely she had parents, family, that would miss her.

She understood the impossibility of her request, reading it on my face, perhaps.

"It's okay," she mumbled, placing the flower in my breast pocket. "Daddy says it's the thought that counts. I guess I know that better than anybody."

I searched her eyes for a long time, watched emotion after emotion swim in them before I asked one question that plagued me for some time.

"Why me?"

"You're mine - Mommy said so. You're my friend...right?"

"Yes, I am." I nodded, smoothing a hand down her long, tangled hair. I was hers, I had fallen for her from the first moment I saw her.

Tears gathered in her eyes and slipped from her long lashes. Resting her warm hand on my silent heart, she snuggled against my chest."You are real, aren't you? My brothers...they say you're not, but you _have _to be. Please be real...please."

A pain burned in my chest at the sound of her earnest plea, but before I could answer, she vanished, leaving me with my thoughts and heartache. Slowly opening my eyes, I found the sky outside the window darker. Never before had she left me with a feeling of impending doom, but this time...I felt it seeping from her.

"That makes it every day this week." Edward's voice came softly from behind me. I wasn't startled, just mildly surprised—I hadn't even heard him come up the stairs. "Sorry to intrude but, your mind is...not it's usual orderly self, and I'm…concerned, Carlisle."

I sighed and turned to face him. "I know you are, Edward."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, sitting down. I hesitated, debating dropping this weight on his shoulders. Around him, I made the extra effort to guard my thoughts, as they were laced with true longing and confusion. "Carlisle, you don't need to guard yourself with me. We've always been able to talk about things, why not this?"

He was right. Edward was my closest, most trusted friend. Our relationship was deeply rooted in companionship - built and fortified over decades. He was the first one I was brave enough to change. When he became a part of this life, I treasured him, his mind, his values and his company and, possibly, above all else his heart. After so many years alone, having someone to speak with was a revelation. We spent hours conversing about things big and small: philosophy, literature, music…baseball. Even now, Edward confided to me his inner most thoughts. He could not be confined to the title of friend or bother…he was both and more.

"Thank you, and you mean the same to me, Carlisle. So if I can confide in you - you, my friend, can confide in me."

_You're right…I'm sorry Edward_, I thought, and he waved the apology off with a flick of his wrist.

"How much of that did you see?" I asked, clearing my throat.

"All of it, Carlisle. She's claimed you as her own, the clever girl." He laughed before looking at me seriously. "Do you think it's possible that she is living somewhere, experiencing the same visions you are, worrying her parents half to death with chatter of a blonde man they've never seen before? She did mention her mother…and father."

"And her brothers," I added. "I honestly don't know Edward. A part of me wants her to be out there with people who love her, but another part wants…Something is going to happen to her. I can feel it. What do you know of omens?"

He shrugged, rolling his eyes. "Very little…most are just old, _untrue_, silly village superstitions."

"Some are, but in my day, one took omens seriously. I suppose some of that has stuck with me all these years. Crows...were always linked with death, and as you saw, there were many fluttering around her."

"I doubt it means anything, Carlisle. I can see that you're worried about her, your concern for the girl is in every thought, but it might be nothing. Have you ever seen her like you saw her tonight?"

I thought of her blackened nightgown, soot covered cheeks, and the bruises, and forced myself to take a couple of deep, calming breaths. "No, she's always looked well cared for."

"Let's hope she remains that way, especially if she means so much to you. I think the notion that she is some 'woodland fairy' is out of the question. She is very pretty, but very human—at least from what I could tell." I quirked a brow in question - his tone suggested that she might not be entirely human. "She may be one with extra abilities, much like Alice was. It is odd, Carlisle…these visions, the way they work. They aren't involuntary like Alice's, but more specific. It's as if she's calling you, reaching out to you, and you specifically. Perhaps the visions—the more troubling ones are hers and not yours."

"Do you mean to say she is responsible for them? I'm merely seeing them because of her influence?" The thought hadn't crossed my mind.

"It's a theory - I could be wrong," he said quietly. "There was a moment...when you seemed to know her. Do you recognize her? Perhaps you treated her, and she remembered you."

I was shaking my head before he finished. I never treated her—I would have remembered, it would be difficult not to.

"She's what, about six now? This all started six years ago. Think about it, Carlisle. This can't be a coincidence." His expression turned thoughtful, and I knew he was sorting though the catalogue of images, different meetings, plucked from my mind. The first time she stumbled over to me and asked to play hide and seek or when she asked if I liked people like her. But the most prevalent was of a little four year old, proudly showing off the purple flowers, as if she had planted them herself. Flowers much like the one she gave me this time.

I could still see the bluebells around her, like floral friends bending their ears to her, keeping her company until I arrived, still smelling the pleasant and unusually strong fragrance of those mythical blooms.

Edward's sharp intake of unnecessary breath got my attention. I looked up, and found him still as stone, eyes wide and fixed, not on my face, but lower.

_What is it? _I asked silently.

"Your pocket, Carlisle."

Tentatively, I brushed my fingertips against the soft cotton, expecting only that, when I felt petals - soft and velvety petals. Holding the delicate bloom with care, as if it were the girl herself, I studied the flower in disbelief. It wasn't possible, and yet, here it was in my hand. All the confusion, all the mystery, all the questions boiled down to one - _how?_

"I don't know, Carlisle, but I think she just sent you a message. Obviously, it's possible."

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? Love? I love both, so let me know!**

**XX**

**Autumn  
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	3. Once upon a time

**A/N: Hello. I'd like to thank you all for reading, reviewing, alerting. It makes my day because honestly, this story is a completely new** **experience. On that note I must thank *Nachos4Children* for having endless patience and understanding with me and my many, many, many edits. We avoided a disaster last night! You are a rock star girly. Thank you Marissa, for your time and help. *hug***  
><strong>Disclaimer: I own nothing remotely related to Twilight andor it's characters. I own, this plot, and characters**_** I**_** introduce.**  
><strong>Enjoy and see you at the bottom<strong>**.**

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><p>"Once upon a time…"—Voice of the Nightingale, 1923<p>

BPOV

Mommy told me once that some stories, important ones, weren't written on pages, they were written on the heart. I liked that idea and wondered how many stories she had on her heart. She loved filling my head with these stories, ones her mommy told her, stories only we remembered. One night she stopped. When she taught me to read, all my stories came from books.

Those books were lined up on the shelves in the living room, waiting, blue, brown, and green leather with yellow pages and ribbon bookmarks. The green one was a gift from daddy, and the prettiest, with gold flowers on the outside and pictures on the inside. So many nice stories with fairies and gnomes, Kings and Queens, and happy endings...They became my friends, the only ones I had, _if _you didn't count Carlisle. But I wasn't suppose to talk about him anymore.

I could almost see my friends getting sadder and sadder while they waited. Maybe it was mean to ignore them, but I didn't like them so much anymore. I didn't know why, but I felt different, and I wanted them gone.

_Then you'll have no friends_, said a tiny voice in the back of my mind.

I kicked my legs back and forth and tried not to cry. I wanted to be strong, like mommy asked me to be, but it was hard. Strong girls don't cry, I reminded myself.

Michael, my oldest, biggest brother, coughed to get my attention. _Isabella_, his thoughts called. He was sitting in the living room, with a book on his lap and when our eyes met he smiled and put a finger to his lips.

_Story time, sweet pea. Just listen. _I nodded and laid my head on my arm. Violet, our kitty, hopped up on the table and snuggled next to me. She purred and blinked her big eyes at me, almost like she was asking me if she could listen, too. Silly kitty.

_Is mom listening?_I shook my head, she was thinking about lots of things but she wasn't paying attention to us.

Words whispered in my ear, and I smiled. The story was slow - some man talking about spicy food, getting recipes for Mina, and some Count. When Michael read, he didn't paint the pictures like my friend Carlisle did, but he had a nice voice, and he read me grown up books.

_I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were "Ordog"-Satan, "Pokol"-hell, "stregoica"-witch, "vrolok" and "vlkoslak"-both mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either werewolf or vampire—_

"That's enough!" my mom cut in. I jumped in my chair, and Michael's thoughts crashed against each other like toy trains. The words stopped, just when it was getting good. She called the book a lot of names, but _morbid_ was the loudest. I didn't know what _morbid_ meant, but it felt…dark and bad. Violet hissed, swiping an angry paw at mommy. "Oh, stop it, you crabby cat. Michael, I told you, not _that _book. Go outside with your brothers and roll those eyes back into your head, young man!"

"She'll read it someday, _Mother_. It wouldn't hurt for her to know what to expect."

"Don't say _mother _that way. Outside. Now."

"It's _raining _outside." He hesitated, but when she raised an eyebrow at him, he closed the book.  
>"Fine, I'm going. Sorry, kiddo, I tried." He dropped a kiss on my head and walked out to join our brothers.<p>

_I guess she was paying attention_, I thought, laying my head back on my arm.

"I'm always paying attention," she told me, turning back to her plants and herbs. I wondered what that last word meant - _vampire_- and if mommy knew, but as soon as I thought the word, she whirled back around. "Want to be my little helper?"

I hopped up on the table, nodding. I loved helping mommy!

She shushed Violet away and brought big heavy books, flowers and herbs, and things to the table. We worked with the Black Malve flowers and marigolds we pressed last week, mixing them with mugwort leaves and sage. I asked what it was for, and mommy just shook her head. "It's a secret," she said, so I didn't ask again. White and pale pink flowers were crushed and put into a glass jars with old yellow labels; others we tied together with string and sparkly stones—like the ones hanging around mommy's neck. She was my teacher, pointing out plants in the book and making up songs so I could remember them.

_Where rosemary and Spanish Moss grow, you'll know it's safe to go_, _snapdragons too._

As the day went on, people from town came to our back door with money and strange thoughts. Mommy dealt with them quickly, after making sure I stayed quiet and in my seat. I listened to them, curious.

They asked for things I couldn't understand, but I felt their hate, their fear. They didn't like being near us, but they came. _Desperate people do desperate things_, mommy told me. At first I didn't know what she meant but as people came and went, all with the same sinking, drowning feeling, I knew. I learned what desperate felt like, sitting on my stool. It was terrible, but still, if I didn't like someone I wouldn't ask for their help, no matter how desperate.

"Sweet pea, do you know what this is for?" she asked, coming back to the table with a little pouch of purple and white flowers. I didn't know, so I shrugged. She leaned down and kissed my forehead before singing softly, "Lavender and chamomile puts little girls to sleep, thyme too. I made it special, because I love you."

I smiled. "I love you, too, mommy." The little baggie smelled good. Violet thought so, too. She jumped on the table and tried taking the bag. "Bad kitty," I scolded her while mommy put our things back where they belonged, leaving a trail of perfume in the air.

Our houses always smelled so good. The house by the beach from when I was little, smelled like the ocean and rose mallows. The one in the mountains always smelled like honeysuckle, jasmine, and pine. I know there were more houses - we were always moving - but this one, deep in the cold woods, was my favorite—lavender, rosemary, patchouli, bluebells, roses, and rain.

_It always smelled so safe_, I thought, looking around our house. Now, it didn't feel safe. Nowhere felt safe. And the dream...it kept coming back. Sometimes at daytime, but at night it got worse.

Some mommies could say, "It's just a dream," but mine couldn't, because it wasn't just a dream.

Ever since I could remember, I was special…different, even more different than mommy. I could do things other people couldn't, see and hear things, too. I always wondered if there were other kids like me, or if they were all normal. Daddy was normal, my brothers were too; they didn't dream scary things that came true, hear thoughts, or anything.

Carlisle was different. Mommy was, too. I knew that different wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. People thought nasty things about us, mommy and me specially…and the things that were going to happen…felt like punishment. Only, I didn't know what we did wrong.

"Why, mommy?" I asked the first night I had _that _dream. I didn't understand why people hated us so much. "Why can't they leave us alone? What's wrong with us?"

She climbed in bed and rocked me in her lap. "People are afraid of what they don't understand. They believe what's different must be...wrong, but there is nothing wrong with us - especially you. I wish I could explain everything to you now."

"Can't we help them understand?"

_You have to be strong for me. _Mommy had been telling me that for weeks_._I was trying to be strong, but…what would I do without them?

Where would they go? Would I ever seen them again?

I scrubbed my face hard when the tears came, but they didn't want to go away. Violet hated being wet, so she wiggled away from me, taking the pouch with her.

I was in my mommy's warm arms before I could ask for them. She wasn't pretending anymore - she was worried and scared. She didn't have to tell me. I felt it. It was everywhere, and from all of them. It was in the air, sitting on top of me. I couldn't breathe, and I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Goodbye was forever.

"Oh, honey, don't cry."

"Mommy, please. Can we hide…please?"

"No," she whispered, squeezing me tighter. "Isabella, I know it's not easy, what I'm asking you to do, but it has to be this way."

"But it's not fair!" I cried.

"It's not, life rarely is. This time...is not like the others. One day, you'll understand…when you're older."

"No, I won't, Mommy." I remembered the dream - the screaming, the fire…the blood. So much blood. I'd never seen anything that red. And the pain. Everything hurt so much. It poked me, all over.

I wanted to run, to hide, to keep everyone safe.

"Bella," she whispered softly, rubbing my back. "you can control this. You can push it away."

"I… I can't."

"Yes, you can, baby. Remember what I taught you. Picture yourself behind an endless glass wall, leave everything on the other side. Protect yourself. And breathe."

"Everything? Can I take you with me?" I begged, but I knew the answer. Maybe it would change if she knew how much I hated it, if she felt it. She shook head sadly. "Daddy? Alex…Michael…George?"

"I'm sorry, but no, sweetie."

"I don't like being alone…it's scary."

"It'll be scary sometimes, but you will never be alone." She put me down, looked me in the eyes and placed her hand over my heart. "I'll always be with you, we all will. Now, go on, try it."

I closed my eyes and did what she said. I stood behind the glass wall, my parents on the other side with my brothers. I could see them, but couldn't hear them or feel them. I felt alone and trapped and scared. I tried to get out, but I couldn't. I pounded on the glass, and they kept smiling…like everything was fine. It wasn't!

Carlisle showed up next to me like magic. He held my hand, and it wasn't so scary. He smiled, and when he said I was safe, I believed him.

"Isabella," mommy whispered. "He can't be there, either."

He disappeared, and the glass shattered around me. The pain, the voices, and feelings came back stronger. I opened my eyes and tears rolled down my cheeks. "But…why? He's my friend…I love him."

I needed him.

_You have to protect yourself, Bella, that is what's important. _There was more, I saw a tiny bit of it, but she buried it deep. She was keeping it from me, and I didn't know why.

Then it hit me. I was going to lose him too.

"NO!" I felt…angry. I had never felt it this strong before. It filled me up and spilled out. I felt myself shaking…I felt the house shaking. Thunder rolled over our heads, and the rain fell harder. I screamed, "NO! Not him, too!"

_I'm so sorry. If I could change it... _She reached out for me, but I stayed where I was.

"You can change it, you can! Change it!" I begged. "I can't lose you all! Do it! We can leave today!"

"We can't."

She looked so...strong when I felt just like the people who came to her, sinking, drowning. She did it for them, why not for me?

Something was tearing, and things were breaking somewhere, but I couldn't see it. Tears burned my eyes, blurring everything and then, I was somewhere else, somewhere cold, lonely, and dark. I knew the place by the smell and panicked. "Please! I don't want to be here anymore…I want to go. I can't…"

I could hear my brothers running through wet leaves, worried. Daddy was already in the house, a million questions bouncing around in his head. From him, came feelings I couldn't name or understand, but the sadness was so heavy I fell to the floor and felt...grass. Everything was loud, voices screamed and pounded in my head.

I didn't know how to shut it off or get out.

"You just have to concentrate, Bella. You can control this. Shut everything out." Her voice was powerful and warm, but far away. I wanted to listen, to get closer, but I didn't know how.

"Mommy!" I called, trying to find her in the darkness.

"She's just a little girl, you do it for her."

"She needs to learn to do this on her own."

"God dammit, she's terrified! Do something!"

Their voices got farther and farther away, and then they were gone. No matter how loud I yelled, they didn't hear me, and the world around me was silent.

Dots of yellow light came closer, and then the night I had been seeing every night, played in front of me. I saw their hard faces, clearly for the first time. Mommy was quiet, but her mind screamed curses. They came into our house, ruining everything I loved. My brothers and dad were first - they killed them and made sure we watched. Blood stained the floor, my clothes, and face. Their last thoughts, memories, and feelings broke something inside me. Mommy and I were dragged outside as fire caught the roof. Mommy fought and tried to go inside, but they tied her up and hurt her. Her screams got louder; her pain got too strong for me to hold. I didn't care what happened to me, I just wanted them to stop hurting her.

"Mommy…help me! Please!" I begged, shaking, hoping that she was somewhere else. Safe. Alive.

For a long time I only heard evil laughs and the wind, but then I felt her. All around me, like a warm blanket.

"I'm here, Bella," she whispered, lifting me from where I fell.

My ears popped, and our house was back - the soft blue drapes and flowers hanging from the rafters. My brothers were at the door, watching me with sad faces. Daddy grabbed me from mommy and held me to his chest, whispering how much he loved me, before kissing my cheeks. His green eyes were worried and red rimmed.

_I'm not ready for this._

I didn't know who thought it, maybe daddy, maybe mommy, maybe all of them, but I wasn't ready, either.

xXXx

Dinner was quiet that night; no one talked. I pushed my food around, sneaking peeks at them, and looking away when their faces changed with the ones from my dream.

After dinner, my brothers went out. Mommy stayed with me until I fell asleep, rocking and singing my bedtime song. I had funny dreams, not sad ones or scary…just weird ones about ferry boats and yellow cabinets. I woke up in the middle of the night and heard my brothers snoring and my parents fighting. From my bed, I listened, holding Violet close to my chest.

"I don't like the way you handled that this afternoon. Just because I don't see and feel things the way you two do, doesn't mean I'm not affected by it. What I came home to was unbearable."

"You think this doesn't hurt me, too? I know you're pissed with me, but I needed to see if she could pull herself out...I won't always be there to help her."

"Yeah, you drove that point home when you left her, crying out for you, wherever the hell she was."

Her voice was low and tired. "She was in our front yard, weeks from now. It's same dream she's been having for weeks."

"I don't care. She's six years old, Cilla! She's a little a girl; you can't just let her drown while you wait for her to swim!" I could hear him pacing, his steps sounded angry. "She's a child!"

"I wish she was, but she isn't. Childhood flew out the window the moment she saw her parents and brothers die - her home burned to the ground. She's different now, and from now on she needs to be strong."

"Strong? She's too young to be dealing with this shit. How can you be so…callous, so accepting about all of this? You just sit back and watch her watch her dream horrors and do nothing to help her. This can't be what you wanted for her. She's our daughter! Six years? That's all we get?"

"_I_ just sit back?" Her voice was shaking, and Daddy felt guilty right away. "I live through each moment with her, see everything she sees! I know she's our daughter, I carried her and brought her into this world. She's this way _because _she's mine. We knew her life would not be simple."

"_I_ didn't know it would be like _this_."

"If you could go back, would you Nathan? Would erase this...us? Your life would've been perfect with _her__._" A plain looking, blond woman with huge teeth and tan skin flashed through her mind - an old vision - standing outside a white house with yellow shutters, with _my _daddy, two boys, and a barking dog. Mommy didn't like her, and I didn't either.

"I wouldn't change anything," he sighed, his anger melting away. The springs in the couch creaked when he sat. "I never wanted that with her—only you. I don't regret choosing you, I just…always hoped they'd leave us alone. Stop looking...Our boys—Michael just turned eighteen, Alex's birthday is around the corner, and George…. I'm not ready. Can't we just move again? Go somewhere else…somewhere far, where we'll be safe? What the fuck did we do? "

"Nothing - that's the point. And if we run this time, they'll kill us anyway, and take her. I don't know what happens to her then, but it's not good. They don't know anything about her right now, and it _needs _to stay that way."

"What makes you so sure they'll leave her alone? Won't they sense something...unique...about her?"

"She's too small to be of any trouble..._if _she listens to me."

"There's nothing I can do to keep you all safe, is there?"

"No." Daddy watched her cross the room and stand in front of him. She gave him a sad smile and ran her fingers through his curly hair. "Your mind sounds like hers, you know. She keeps trying to see how long she can keep us if we move. Like a game of hide and seek but no matter what she does, the outcome is the same."

"Because you can't…change what's…meant to be."

"You're breaking my heart," She whispered. "This is hard for me, too - watching her hope dwindle. I don't want to leave her, either. I want to see her grow up, but the best thing we can do is prepare her." The room was quiet for a while. The wood in the fireplace crackled softly. "If it's any comfort, the boys aren't afraid."

"Meager comfort, but comfort nonetheless." He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around mommy's waist, "Weeks, is that all we have?" She closed her eyes and nodded. "And this Carlisle character?"

"Nate, don't start. She's very attached to him, and I don't blame her. He's a deeply compassionate being. She loves him...all of this started because of him."

"I don't like him." He thought of Carlisle holding me and kissing me like he kissed mommy. I made a face at Violet - daddy was crazy. That was just gross. Carlisle was my friend. "Christ…I didn't think I'd have to worry about men chasing after her." Mommy slanted her eyes at him. "Ironic, yes, but you know what I mean."

"Everything at its time."

"Will she be okay, happy…after we're gone? I keep worrying…"

Mommy closed her eyes and rested her head against his. I tried to follow her thoughts as she looked ahead, but she knew I was awake and kept me out. I tried again, but she was older and stronger.

"Eventually, she'll heal and be happy."

"You can really see her life?" Daddy asked, holding her tighter. "Could you show me? I'd love the peace of mind."

"Not all of it, and the future changes, but her story is very old. I learned it when I was a girl and my mother before me and her mother before her." Mommy stopped to kiss daddy, and when she pulled away, I felt sadness fill them both. "Nathan, knowing won't give you peace...it hurts more."

Violet purred and snuggled against my face as I cried. Mommy was right, knowing...hurt more.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading.**

**Thoughts?**


	4. The Rip

**A/N:Hello all. Here is another chapter, I hope you all enjoy. **

***warning* This chapter contains violence. If this offends you, please do not read.*warning***

**Thank you to Nachos4Children. You are a beta ROCK STAR, for putting my mind at ease, threatening to slap me *Smiles* and SO MUCH MORE. KISS. **

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><p>"From the shadows of this Gothic world strange creatures emerged—souls curiously warped with hate." —Don Juan, 1926<p>

EPOV

Emmett was deeply engrossed in his video game when wheels crunched to a sudden stop, spitting gravel at the front window. I shook my head and continued playing for Esme, who was outside gardening. Her thoughts were serene, filled with the simple pleasure of her lush and fragrant the garden. I clung desperately to the last seconds of tranquility before Alice came inside. Just the thought of her made me agitated.

"Ten large Andretti was on shopping at the weird voodoo ass shop…again," he hollered, pressing buttons like a man possessed.

"More than likely, she reeks of New Age bullshit …and sage," I murmured before picking up a song I wrote for Esme.

From the piano bench, I heard her sigh happily as the soft, familiar melody reached her. _Thank you Edward._

"You're welcome lov—"

"Is he home yet?" Alice's mind was a fortress of grating pop music, but it was clear whom she was referring to.

"Don't _you_ know?" I snapped, annoyed by the interruption. "Alice the omnipotent…you know _everything_."

Her stride faltered over the threshold, and she let her guard down for a fraction of a second. My hands froze as a familiar little girl came into focus, curled on the forest floor...bleeding. Her lips moved silently as her eyelids fluttered closed. She could have been sleeping, but I knew better. Her skin was too white, her breathing too shallow. Before I could search further, see more, Alice regained control, and Billy Idol replaced the shocking image.

Unlike her other visions, this one held an edge of urgency. I knew no amount of coaxing would force a secret from Alice once she decided to keep it, but I was losing my patience.  
>How could she keep this to herself?<p>

Slamming my hands down on the keys, I called to her. The disjointed clang of cords and my anger rang through the house. Esme asked me not to start another argument, and I would have done as she asked, but I couldn't. "You didn't see what I saw. Alice, we need to talk. Now!"

"No. We don't." Keeping the titles of her musty books hidden, Alice sauntered into the house, confident that Carlisle was not home. Her eyes met mine briefly in warning, as she passed my piano and me.

Warning or no warning, what I saw haunted me. Nothing could erase the small, frightened, and stained face, little fingers weakly drawing in the dirt or the word I read on her trembling lips.

Carlisle. She was calling for help that would never come. The thought ripped through me, as I knew it would tear through Carlisle.

Emmett's gloating caught my attention, he was screaming so loudly. "I blew your high score out of the water!"

I rolled my eyes impatiently. "Three points is nothing, Emmett."

"Yeah, sure, whatever helps ya sleep at night, Eddie." He laughed at his joke before tossing an arm over the couch to face me. "Give it up man; she isn't going to share what she knows until she wants to. You're gonna have to wait like the rest of us."

_He's right. Wait._Alice thought as she came down the stairs.

"Until when? From what I saw, time is running out."

Carlisle's face came to her then, pained and hardened. In all the years I had know him, he had never looked quite so…dead. She stopped at the door. "That wasn't what you think it was, Edward. You all have to trust me."

"What was it then?"

She ignored me and rushed out to her car to gather more things - books and bags. She was back in the blur of ivory and moldering leather. Emmett wrinkled his nose, but said nothing—possibly because he was distracted, imaging Alice peering into a crystal ball on television with a headscarf and numbers flashing beneath her face.

When another vision hit, I followed her, knocking over the piano bench in my haste.

_Edward, get out of my way._She warned, taking in my stance between her and the door to the bedroom she shared with Jasper. Her foot tapped impatiently on the wood floor.

"What are you doing with those?" I asked, flicking my gaze down to the books in her arms.

_Just a bit of light reading, Edward_.

I raised a questioning brow at the vague explanation. "Light reading…Since when do _you _read?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you insulting my intelligence?"

She knew I wasn't. Despite all her fashion obsessions, she was no insipid idiot. Alice was one of the most intelligent people I knew. "You've been running off to these stores for weeks now, smuggling book after book into our house. You hate anything old, unless it's vintage, and those are so far past 'vintage,' they're rotting. What they have to do with _her_?"

"That's none of _your _business. Now if you don't mind, I have some reading to do before tonight. Stay out of my head, Edward. I mean it."

She tried to step around me, but I stepped with her, blocking her once again. I was at the end of my tether. "I'm sick of this shit. It stops now, Alice!"

It had been four months since that damn flower appeared - who knew such a small thing could cause such trouble? That night we thought it was surely a sign, a message. It sat on the desk, blue and pure, as proof that a bridge between this child and Carlisle existed outside the world they occupied. It was strange and perplexing...and wondrous.

"Is it too far a stretch to believe that this…phenomenon…can extend to…people?" He hoped she could be plucked and brought back - safe and unharmed - just like the flower. He seemed to forget that I could hear him, but when he realized, he looked down at his hands sheepishly. "Edward…what is happening?"

"I don't know, but I think we should tell the family. They've been worried."

While Carlisle was not usually a secretive man, he had kept most of this to himself. Things he saw, felt, experienced…the love he felt for her, he kept private and close to his heart. In a home where privacy was scarce and secrets were nearly impossible to keep, Carlisle managed both. I didn't begrudge him...if anything, he deserved it.

He nodded slowly, reluctantly admitting that the time for secrets had long passed. "You're right, they deserve to know. After all, they might be able to help."

"You are decades older than us, if you don't know…how are we supposed to?" I doubted it, but Carlisle insisted that they could offer insight.

"Age is inconsequential where knowledge or wisdom is concerned, Edward. Their human lives may have left an impression, a memory that could help. Memories that I, in all my time on this earth, do not have."

Just as I predicted, they had no idea what to make of the young girl. Wild and ridiculous theories were tossed out. Emmett first argued that she was an extraterrestrial. But knowing his affinity for government conspiracies and little green men, none of us took his idea seriously. After some rethinking, he said, logically, that she must know Carlisle from his human life.

"Not possible, she's six."

"Ever heard of reincarnation, Jas? Think about it - Carlisle doesn't have a whole lot of human memories - none really - and Edward said Carlisle recognized something in her."

He spun a tragic romance in his head, lovers torn apart on the fateful night Carlisle was bitten. One immortal, the other watching, waiting, for the time when they could be reunited.

It sounded like a sappy romance novel.

Carlisle didn't comment, but his mind searched as far back as it could, for some trace of her. There was none. Rose was consumed by maternal instincts she normally buried beneath vanity. Tactical and rough as ever, Jasper declared the girl a threat - a trap to lure him and possibly all of us into danger. The notion provoked Carlisle's rarely seen temper, and the dinner table paid the price. Alice was silent, searching Carlisle's future and mentally cataloging his past, both immortal and mortal. Esme's heart broke for this strange creature, lamenting her pain, as I knew she would.

"Is there anything we can do? There must be some way of finding her." Esme looked around the table with pleading eyes.

"Carlisle has looked, honey. We don't even have a name, first or last."

Carlisle cleared his throat, "I asked...she said she promised her mother that she wouldn't tell it to anyone. Too dangerous."

Jasper made sure Carlisle was calm before speaking. "Even if we had a name, she could be anywhere, and Carlisle's description doesn't give us much to go on."

"Alice, have you seen anything?" Rose asked quietly. She imagined what it would be like to have a little girl in our home, the laughter and joy, but dismissed the idea when Alice shook her head.

"Nothing, sorry." I knew a lie when I heard one, and Alice, clever little imp that she was, began singing that terrible _Luftballons_ song, in German. She and I rarely hid anything from each other, so her blocking me was a shock.

I thought about saying something, but I didn't.

Esme looked to me, desperate for some shred of hope. "She's so young, Edward. What do we do? Wait for her to find us or…?" My wife's golden eyes held so much pain - a pain only a mother could know. _She's innocent and defenseless._

I gripped Esme's hand in mine and threw a pointed look across the table to Alice. "I'm afraid it's all we _can _do."

I had no idea what or who she was, but I refused to side with Jasper, or Emmett for that matter. She was a mystery. The one thing we all did agree on was that she was unusual, and therefore, we should be cautious.

The need for caution never arose.

One morning in June, all trace of her and her influence in Carlisle vanished. The sudden loss wounded him much deeper than I ever expected. As if someone had taken a vital piece of him, he ached. The dull pain of her absence, of not knowing what happened, ate away at him. Every hour, every day. When he thought we were out of the house, he'd read the stories and poems he read to her, as if, wherever she was, she could hear him. He prayed she could hear him.

Armed with his faith, he waited, convinced that their connection was still there, never once giving weight to the fear that she was gone. But as the days passed without word, he withdrew, preferring the solitude of his study, spending less time with us, and more at the hospital.

It hurt us all.

During these hot summer months, I saw the world dim through his eyes, felt his pain and confusion. And more painful still, heard his prayers. I couldn't do it anymore, not when the answers were so close at hand.

"What do you know about her?" I growled.

"Nothing, Edward. Get out of my way." Her eyes were hard, and her voice matched. She was so convincing, I almost believed her.

"Don't bullshit me, Alice, I saw her in your head. She's _obviously_ more important that we thought. What else have you seen?"

_Edward…stop this!_

"Tell me."

Her resolve started to crack, things slipped. Images flashed through her head, unstable and translucent as mist: Carlisle and the girl - the same girl, older - standing alone in the snow, face illuminated by a dirty neon motel sign, clothes hanging off her thin shoulders. Then there was another, one that stood firm, solid and fixed. It enraged me, not because of it's content - it was beautiful - but because Carlisle had been deprived of its joy.

"How dare you keep_ that_ from him? He deserves to know, Alice!" I advanced on her, icy anger seeping into my voice with each word. "All this time you've sat back and watched him suffer. _That_ would have eased his pain!"

_I can't tell him, Edward. Not yet! _

"You sat at that table and lied. You've know all along. I could've told him you were having visions, but I didn't because I expected you to do the right thing!"

Esme's gentle chiding went in one ear and out the other. Behind Alice, Emmett and Rose appeared, drawn by the shouting. Emmet had his eyes trained on me, arms crossed over his chest. Rose stared at Alice with accusing eyes.

_What did she see Edward?_

I ignored her question, glaring at both my siblings. "I'm not going to hurt her, she doesn't need bodyguards. She can handle herself just fine without you."

"Fine, bro. You guys were loud…that's all." Emmett turned and left, taking a grease-covered Rose with him. Rose was less concerned with our volume. She, too, harbored some resentment against Alice.

"I am doing the right thing, Edward," Alice whispered as soon as they had gone. "For Carlisle. Do you think it's easy? It's not. He's the closest thing I have to a father...I hate hurting him, but..." If she had the ability to cry, she would have.

_Hate me if you want, but I know happiness comes at a price. I'll pay it._

I saw the mental struggle it was to keep such a tight reign on her thoughts and emotions. Keeping so many secrets, even from Jasper, was too much for her. The anger I felt, had been feeling for months, drained, and I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. "Alice, how long do you think you can do this?"

_Edward, I only have to do it til tonight. After that, it's a waiting game…for all of us, including her. _

"And the girl?"

"Safe, for the most part." She pulled away from me and handed me one of her books. "Have you ever been to Forks?"

"A long time ago, but not lately. Why?"

Briefly, she focused on a dark-haired man with a horrendous mustache and a badge. "It seems like a safe place. Carlisle won't be in until late. Read that book."

I looked down at the book in my hands. The hide was cracking and an unrecognizable scrawl of fading gold letters ran up the broken spine. "Alice, what is it?"

"Just one of the many books I saved." Her face turned thoughtful, remembering the flaming state she found the tiny store in - toppled shelves, broken bottles, the poor naive and lifeless shop owner slumped over the counter. Alice didn't think it was an accident, and I believed her. "Someone went through a lot of trouble to bury that, so...read the book, Edward."

xXXx

The bed dipped and her floral scent swirled around me, soft and comforting. I shut the damn book just as her fingers touched my back. I sighed, and Esme massaged my tense shoulders in silence. My head was full of questions and stories. But I let it drift away for a moment and enjoyed my wife's ministrations. Her touch was soft, and it was just what I needed. She smiled softly, and she moved her hands down my back, but beneath her loving expression was turmoil.

Guilt twisted in my heart; I knew it was affecting her more than she let on. No one wanted to say it, but the fact that this child could very well die, hung over us all. And to Esme, it brought back traumatic memories from her human life.

Her soft lips grazed my ear, and I grabbed one of her hands and brought it to my lips.

_You've been reading for a long time. Must be a good book._

The clock on the wall said eleven. For most of the day, I scrutinized the book, cover to cover, page by page, noting even the most minute details, but still, I was none the wiser. "It's worthless folklore and gibberish, Esme. Every page. How was this supposed to help Carlisle?"

_Maybe that wasn't its purpose, perhaps it was for you. _When I didn't respond, she added to her thoughts. _You're not the only one that loves him, Edward. _

"I know that...but it pains me to see him this way."

She sighed and stretched out beside me, tangling her slim legs with mine. Her fingers combed through my hair, and I moaned quietly. "You've never felt so far from me as you have these past months. It pains _me_ to see you so worried about Carlisle...so angry with Alice. I know you're not used to waiting or Alice keeping you out of her head, but this bickering has to stop."

"But Esme, I need to know -"

"No, Edward, you _want _to know. You trust Alice, don't you? Yes. So why are you so angry? If you knew something could jeopardize Carlisle's happiness, you'd do whatever it took to secure it - keep secrets, lie…even to me."

Her eyes bore into mine; she knew Alice had seen something important, that I had, too. I wanted to tell her, but…could I tell her and not Carlisle?

As I opened my mouth, Alice burst into the room, nearly ripping the door of its hinges. "Damn ! How about knocking, Alice!" I yelled, leaping off the bed.

"I couldn't. Sorry, Esme, but Edward and I need to talk. Now. Alone."

"It's fine." Esme kissed my check and left, closing the door behind her.

Alice paced, her mind frantic and flying, but no actual words left her mouth. She was wearing a path in the wood floors!

"There wasn't time to knock, but there's time for you to pace? What do you want, Alice?"

She didn't stop pacing, but at least she started speaking, quickly. "Edward…what you saw this morning…that was what happens every time I even think about telling you what I know. She dies. Every time. I've wanted to tell you...sometimes we get there a minute too late, and other times, Carlisle watches her die...unable to save her...so I've kept it to myself, but…" Alice paused, as if her words were too difficult to say.

"BUT...Alice?" I pressed, sensing that there was more, eager to hear what was so important.

"I...I saw her die, and we're to blame."

Her vision hit me with such strength and horror, I had to sit. A house I had only seen second hand, sat in the middle of the forest, engulfed in flames. Dark figures, smudges against the bright fire, stood gathered around a woman - bound, with her arms above her head, and twigs stacked up to her knees. A little girl lay on the ground, shaking, as her mother was tortured. I could hear nothing, but the anguish and fury on her young face paralyzed me. Just as one man went to light the kindling at the woman's feet, the girl was yanked from the floor roughly. Forced to watch. Before she could cry out in pain, Carlisle ran from out the tree line, easily ending the life of the one stupid enough to harm the girl. The images blurred, shifted, and when they settled, I saw her - pale and broken - in Carlisle's arms.

"I think she's a lot closer than we thought - outside of Sitka. He can't get involved, Edward, but...he has to be there. It's the only way..." Her thoughts picked up where she left off, giving me instructions, showing me everything I wanted to know so badly, only moments ago. "I'm sorry, Edward...but it has to be this way."

I nodded. "When?"

"Any moment now. You can't let him get involved, Edward."

"Alice…if he sees her in danger, he won't stand by and let it happen."

_He has to. His future vanishes when she dies._

His thoughts came into range then, and I flew down the stairs and out of the house. Jasper and Emmett asked where I was going, but Alice would tell them. I didn't have time to explain.

Right where the road curved and became our driveway, Carlisle stood, gripping his car door, engine still purring. His eyes were too dark for having just hunted. He was dressed for work in his white coat, stethoscope draped around his neck…everything about him screamed alert. He hadn't heard her yet, but he was sensing something.

"Edward…do you feel that?" he hissed. His focus was not on me, but somewhere off in the forest.

I shook my head, but soon realized that I did indeed, feel something. A prickling on my skin, a sickening churning in my stomach. The air felt…wrong. There was no other way of explaining it. In the dead of night, the forest came to life, but all was silent.

"I've felt like this all day."

The wind shifted and brought with it the unmistakable scent of burning humans: acrid, metallic, and sulfurous. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Something about the smell was familiar, but he couldn't pin point from where. Then it happened - her voice called him, echoing softly in his thoughts. Without a thought, he ran into the Yukon forest. He knew exactly where he was going.

"Carlisle!"

I ran after him, but no matter how hard I pushed, I couldn't seem to catch up. I almost lost him when we crossed over into Alaska. His mind was focused solely on her, on reaching the source of her torment. With each foot fall and rush of wind, came the aroma of a thousand different emotions, a myriad of contradictions - fear, glee, anger, satisfaction, hatred, restraint, and lust. The lust puzzled me...but some people got their kicks from inflicting pain. In all honesty, the air was quite vile, but rain-soaked honeysuckle hung thickly, blanketing the trees, moss and grass. It was quite intoxicating, but not in the way one would think that blood would appeal to a vampire.

So intent was I on the scent, that I crashed into Carlisle, who was standing motionless, eyes fixed at the scene before us. This was new to him, but I stood face-to-face with Alice's vision - the house, the men, the girl, and her mother…all of it was there before me - us - and it would only get worse.

"Carlisle, we can't be here." I grabbed his arms, but he jerked out of my grasp.

_Let go me Edward._

A low growl rumbled in Carlisle's chest while he watched, and his hands fisted at his sides. With more force than necessary, the woman was dragged away from her child and bound to a post jabbed in the ground. She knew what awaited her, she had known for some time…but her heart was too broken to fight. Her husband was gone, as well as her sons. Pain and desperation settled in my chest as I took in the small girl sobbing and struggling in the arms of her captor.

Who would fight for her? She was so small.

So many thoughts vied for my attention, but I zeroed in on the youngest mind.

She was terrified, not for herself, but for her mom. Her thoughts were heartbreaking and replayed the deaths of her brothers and father - deaths she felt responsible for. The intensity and rage pouring from the young girl, was overwhelming, even without Jasper's gift.

Alice was close, and the others were close behind. "Carlisle, you can't get involved. We should go."

_You leave…but I will not leave her here. _He snapped, glancing at me dismissively.

I had never seen this man before. Gone was the peaceful patriarch, and in his place, stood the man from Alice's vision - desperate and determined. I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was calculating, formulating a plan.

"Carlisle, she will die," I pleaded.

I caught the tenor of a different mind - a devious one. I had hunted depraved minds such as this one, one who took joy from ending lives. As soon as I found him - Andrew - I fought for restraint and hoped that Carlisle had not noticed the hunger in Andrew's eyes as he held her.

Luck was not on our side tonight. He noticed. His vision clouded over with anger I had never known. He moved towards the men stealthily, easily calculating their demise. The six men would fall in a matter of seconds, and he was positive that he could reach the girl before any of them harmed her.

Before he could leap out and make a huge mistake, I grabbed his arms and pinned him on the ground.

"Let go, Edward," he snarled and stood, trying to toss me off him. Having never fought him, I had no idea he was so strong.

"Please, Carlisle, I'm begging you. Alice had seen it. If you go out there, she will die, and you disappear…nothing changes that. We can't intervene."

"What choice do I have?"

"I'm sorry, Carlisle, but Alice has seen this. You go out, and she dies."

_Because of me. _My words sunk in, and he relaxed. _This can't be the only way Edward._

The family arrived then, and immediately I felt Jasper's influence, as did Carlisle. No one spoke as they took in what was happening just beyond the trees that hid us. Alice had somewhat filled them in, and as a result, each wore a somber mask. Esme came to stand beside me and slipped her hand into mine.

"Do what you want with me, Jonathan, but leave her out of this," the bound women pleaded.

"I plan to, Priscilla, but surely you don't think I'd simply let her go free? She is all that's left of your family, is she not? Maybe I'll keep her...drive out any wickedness you might have passed on. Spare the rod...spoil the child."

"Let her go free, she has nothing you want."

The savage holding the young girl kissed her cheek, making a show of licking her delicate skin, and Jasper turned up the dose of calm. She was disgusted, but she made no sound. "It looks like she has something he wants. If you're good, Andrew, you can have her."

I looked to Alice, hoping she'd understand what I was asking. _He doesn't touch her Edward. _

"You evil bastard, you will pay for this!" she screamed, tugging at the ropes as they bit into her wrists.

He chuckled. "Who is left? Who will make me pay? Certainly, you don't mean her. No, she is quite powerless in all this. That tiny thing…so inconsequential surrounded by such evil; it really is a waste. I should kill her now. It would be the best punishment... really. Force you to watch your youngest die before I kill you, but what would _she_ learn, if I did that? Bring the girl to me, the rest of you stay back."

I clenched my fists as one of the men dragged the young girl by the arm over to their leader. A feral growl ripped through Carlisle, and both Emmett and Jasper grabbed a hold of him. I promised myself that the man would pay for what he did.

"She really is quite striking, Priscilla, such beautiful thing. I see more of you in her than her father. Such a shame you won't see her grow up. Now what is your name, sweetie?" he asked, yanking her closer to his face.

She was looking at her mother, pleading for permission. When she didn't answer, he smacked her hard, and Esme sobbed into my shoulder.

"I asked you a question - answer it."

"Isabella." Fury shook her voice, and in an attempt to control herself, she dug her nails into her palms. That honeysuckle scent flowed into the air. It was her blood...yet I felt no thirst. And neither did the rest of our family.

_Isabella. _Carlisle thought reverently._ God's promise._

"Isabella...what a strange choice your mother made, giving you _that _name. You are still innocent; there is still time for you to repent, to turn away from a life of wickedness. Child, you don't have to die like them."

"I'd rather die like my family than live like you!"

Who were these people? What crime could they have committed?

"The warfare of your mother's spirit has been perpetuated in you." He motioned for the men with torches to advance before he addressed Priscilla. "I find this quite nostalgic too, don't you? We have a history of this - your kind and mine…tradition is, after all, very important."

"Tradition of murder, yes. It built this country. I pity you...nothing but a servant, a lapdog ready to jump on command, hiding behind a mask of righteousness, but I see what you are. What lies in your heart…you'll never find what you're looking for. Not this way."

"Wait." His fiendish eyes lit up, and his grip on the girl's arm tightened. "Priscilla, it's not wise to keep things from me. Tell me what you know, and I might spare you."

"Spare me!" she mocked. "You'll spare me? Like my sisters...and their families? You've forgotten who you're dealing with. Your lies, your tricks, and deceit will not work on me."

"Perhaps not on you… but her," he cocked his head at the girl, "I wonder how long she can keep quiet while we _question _you."

"Mommy, please!" She broke her silence and begged, though what she begged for was not clear - her thoughts were jumbled.

The man closest to the woman unsheathed a long thin blade and thrust it in her side with a practiced swiftness. A cry left her lips as dark blood poured out from the wound, staining her alabaster skin, and just as the blood of her daughter, her's held no vampiric appeal.

"NO! Please stop!"

Again and again, he stabbed her, questioning her as her daughter screamed, but she remained silent during the barbaric bloodletting. The woman's heart was slowing. Her pulse, once steady and even, was now dangerously slow. She was dying.

"Edward, we must do something!"

"Carlisle, we can't," Alice whispered, gently resting a hand on his shoulder, but he swatted it away. The gesture hurt her, and venom pooled in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Carlisle."

"How could this be what was meant for her? It can't be! So we let a child—a baby in all respects—be violated in the woods like an animal, and disposed of like trash. Is that what you're telling me, Alice? That there isn't any other way?"

Rosalie growled loudly, snarling at her sister while Emmett held her back. It appeared that she hadn't been made aware of everything. Out of all of them, she would be the most sympathetic to the girl's plight. Jasper face twisted under the emotional current as he tried to control Rose's anger and sedate Carlisle.

"Say goodbye to her now, Priscilla, if you haven't already. You won't get another chance."

"Mom, please…please!" Isabella begged, dragging herself closer to her mother. She sobbed, clawing at the ground as her mother spoke through ragged breaths. Priscilla didn't give her daughter the permission she so desperately wanted, only her love. All she asked of her daughter was strength—it seemed like such a large thing to ask of such a small child.

Isabella was past listening, her pleading indicated that while she might be only a child, she understood exactly what was being stripped from her.

_Isabella, please my angel, don't cry_. Carlisle thought, weighed down by the artificial haze Jasper had him under.

Her head snapped in our direction, eyes wide and dark, mind suddenly attuned to us, as if she just noticed.

The girl easily had the most beautiful face I had ever seen - on either vampire or human. Her eyes were large and wide, surrounded by thick lashes. Her dark hair whipped around her porcelain face—in the moon light, she could have passed for an immortal child. Even at such a young age, she was ethereal.

Isabella gasped and tilted her head to the side, as if trying to get a better a look. I knew she couldn't see us, there was no way, but instinctively, I stepped back. Still, I felt pinned to the ground as she looked at me, peered into my head. It was the oddest intrusion. When her eyes locked with Carlisle's, a child-like curiosity bloomed inside her heart. She had so many questions - about us, about Carlisle, but she was torn between what she wanted and what she knew was necessary.

Not only was she telepathic, but clairvoyant. What was she?

_You can't be here…none of you, _she thought, still looking straight at Carlisle with her penetrating gaze. _Leave. You don't want to see what happens next._

"Priscilla, I wish you would have made this easier. Last chance?"

She wheezed a final farewell to her daughter and closed her eyes. Priscilla was...praying.

"Burn her!"

"NO!"

The moment the flames engulfed Priscilla, her daughter let out a blood-curdling scream, one that startled the entire forest. Trees moaned and creaked in time as if she was beckoning them to sing for her. She screamed for her mother, begged for her father, and cried tears of despair and physical pain - her tiny body shaking with the force of her anguish. Pain gnawed at my heart and stomach, and had I not been a vampire, I would have been violently ill.

Carlisle fell to his knees and crawled as close as he dared.

"She's feeling everything," Jasper muttered through clenched teeth. "I've never felt anything so strong. She feels the flames, the fire, and pain with her own body. If I didn't have the proof telling me otherwise, I'd say she was the one on fire. I can't tell which emotions are hers and which are coming from the other people. How can one body contain all of this without ripping itself to shreds?"

"Can you try to ease her pain?" I heard Carlisle ask hoarsely.

"No, I can't…I can't be here."

"We need to go. Now."

At Alice's words, a fight broke out. Rose refused to leave, and Emmett was forced to drag her back. Carlisle was in such a state, he didn't fight or speak as we took him by the arms. Between Jasper and I, we ran him back home as quickly as possible.

Inside our home, Rose was fuming, and in her rage, she couldn't conceal the pain from her own life or how much she wanted Isabella as her own. "How can you live with yourself, Alice, knowing you let her be violated like that! Six humans wouldn't stand a chance against any one of us."

"They were only humans, evil motherfuckers! We could have taken them, saved the girl," Emmett argued, his heart sick from what he had witnessed.

"The damage it would have done to our family, our future was too great...Isabella is a strong little girl-"

"A little girl...you left a little girl in the hands of a pedophile!"

I closed my eyes against the thought of any hands roughly marring her, defiling her, robbing Isabella of her innocence and scarring her for life—that was, if they were cruel enough to make her live after doing such a thing to her. It made me sick. No person deserved to be violated, but she was just a child—a young, now-orphaned child.

"She's just a child." Esme whispered from her place, echoing my thoughts.

"He...won't-"

"Don't lie to us, Alice! You've known about this for too long, lied for too long! I don't want to hear it!"

Carlisle hadn't been listening before, but Rosalie's words made it through his grief. He looked to Alice, hoping that she would deny the accusation. She didn't.

"Did you know this would happen, Alice?" Carlisle's voice sounded hollow - his eyes matched.

She nodded, unable to speak. Without another word, he left the room and retreated to his study. One by one, each member of the family left. Rose went into the garage and took her emotions out on her car. Emmett followed to console his wife, and Jasper went to hold his.

Stoking her short hair he drew her into his arms, "Ali, this is what you couldn't tell me."

"Not now. Please...I need to be alone!" She ran outside, a reminder to me in her thoughts. Jasper was stunned but he respected her wishes, climbing the stairs to their bedroom at a human speed.

Esme caught my gaze. _Do I get an explanation, Edward? _

She wanted to know why we had left, why we left her to die. Her son she was powerless to save, but Isabella, she could have. Nearly did. I had seen it, for a moment while we stood behind those trees, Esme's natural instinct was to protect, nurture those she loved, and I had stopped her. She deserved more than a lie, but I realized that it wasn't just for Carlisle that I was doing this. It was as much for him as it was for her. How could I let her lose another child?

"Esme...I... Trust me?"

_Always. Whatever it takes to secure his happiness, right? Be careful my love._

"Always, Esme."

xXXx

Alice and I drove in silence back the way we came. My thoughts were on Carlisle and how this new blow would effect him, if he realized the depth of his love Isabella. _God's Promise_. Johnathan scorned her...but I saw no fault in her. No wickedness, no evil, as he claimed. The only evil I saw, walked the halls of his mind, and those of his men.

Such hate.

_That man...He didn't touch her, Edward. I would have killed him myself if there was the slightest chance he'd get what he wanted. _Alice told me as soon as we reach the car's limit.

"I know, Alice," I cut the engine and climbed out, "but Carlisle thinks he did. He thinks she's dead."

_Edward...are you sure you can do this? _

"I can do it, Alice."

Again, we said nothing as we made our way back to the place we'd left not an hour ago. The house was still burning, the scent of half-burned organs hung in the air, and the place where Priscilla had been standing, was now a pile of blue ash. Ash was everywhere as it rained down like snow.

We came upon Isabella, curled on the forest floor, eyes closed. Carlisle's name was written in childish scrawl in the dirt, and beside it, an odd little drawing of swirls, stars, and an eye. There was no sign of the evil that transpired, the men, or Andrew…but there was blood. Tons of it, smeared on the trees, all over Isabella's white nightgown, and her fingers. It didn't belong to her.

"Who?"

_Andrew_, Alice replied with a shrug. _He deserved it._

"She did this? How? She's…"

"You haven't caught on yet, huh? I can't imagine Jonathan was very secretive about it in his head...or any of the others for that matter."

"It was hard to read them, Alice." Hate twisted reason and thought...until they became tangled.

Gently, I lifted her from the ground and wrapped her in the blanket Alice handed to me. She was injured and bleeding, her lip was split open and bruises were starting to color up, but her heart was beating strong. The fuzziness of her thoughts I attributed to the bump on her head.

"She's fine."

Quickly, we took her back to the car where we cleaned her up and stitched what appeared to be a knife wound across her back. Hopefully, it wouldn't scar too badly - Carlisle was the surgeon - but I did my best.

"Alice." I held Isabella's small hand up before scrubbing the blood and skin away. Her fingernails were broken and red. Just like Rosalie's.

Alice shook her head, "The prick cut her back when she tried to run, but she didn't give him a chance to do anything else. That under her fingernails, is his skin."

"Good girl."

I kissed her soft cheek, and let Alice finish dressing her while I ran back to the house to see if there was anything of importance to be salvaged. Among the rubble, I found very little, pieces of the family that lived there but by the garden gate, I found a book and necklace. The book was old - parchment - words written in ink, pages littered with flowers and scrolling script. Alice called, and I ran back to the car, both treasures under my arm.

I showed Alice the book, and she put in on the dashboard, wholly uninterested, but when I showed her the necklace, her eyes widened considerably. It was quite beautiful - a cloudy amethyst fused with onyx dangling from a delicate gold chain that seemed to drip down on the crystals themselves.

Slipping the necklace around Isabella's neck and tucking her necklace under the blanket, Alice informed me of its importance.

"You mean it's not just a pretty necklace?" I mocked, turning onto the road.

"It's called an amulet, and it was her mother's. It was passed down from generation to generation, and it'll keep her safe."

"It didn't work out so well for her mom, did it? Are you sure she'll be safe in Forks, Alice?"

"Yes. While she is there, she will be safe."

She left it at that, and we once again traveled in silence, lost in thought. The question of who or what this child was nagged at me. I was missing something that should have been clear, but my brain refused to acknowledge it.

"What is she?"

Her golden eyes flickered down at the girl in her lap, as she dashed a curl away from her face. _Isn't obvious? Didn't you read the book? Or notice the Puritanical persecution? Only certain types of women are burned at the stake, Edward._

I looked at the angelic face relaxed in slumber, incredulously. "She's a-"

"In the flesh." She nodded.

"-but I thought..." No, they didn't exist.

"Come on Edward, where do you think the stories came from? Now, step on it; this isn't a road trip. We have a ferry to catch."

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? Good? Bad?...The UGLY? *smirk* Let me know what you think.**

**XX  
>Autumn<br>**


	5. Revival

**A/N: Hello! I know it's been ages since I updated this story and I'm sorry. Hopefully I can get on a regular posting schedule. We left off with Alice and Edward driving with little Bella towards safety. **

**Enjoy!  
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><p>Charlie's POV<p>

"Morning-cold-gray-unfriendly-"

Merry-Go-Round, 1923

The first cry woke me, or maybe I just expected it. Bright green numbers flashed in my face - 2:30. I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and slipped my shirt on. Before she could call out again, I was out of bed and walking sleepily down the hall. I paused at the door; hand on the cool knob, listening, still hesitant to go inside _this _room. Renee didn't like me in her "creative space."

"It's been four months, Charlie..." I muttered to myself, turning the knob.

The room was small - empty, except for the things Renee left behind, much like the rest of the house. It was dark, but I could make out her small body curled under the blankets. _I guess it's her room now._I shuffled to the bed and swept the long messy hair from her face, then checked her forehead with the back of my hand. The past few nights, she had been feverish, and it scared the hell out of me - but tonight, thankfully, her face was cool. Whatever relief I felt was replaced with defeat as soon as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. In the white moonlight, tear tracks shimmered down her cheeks. Her tears made me uncomfortable, though not as much as they did when she was awake with her eyes fixed on me. She had been crying tonight, for hours more than likely, and her voice rasped like a chain smoker's as she said the only word I'd ever heard her say.

"Shhh," I whispered, drying her tears awkwardly with the back of my hand. "Don't be afraid, you're safe."

An icy, strong breeze swept through the room, disturbing the bead curtain, and made us both shiver. I didn't need to look to know that the window had been thrown open - like an invitation to anything and anyone.

After pulling the covers around her shoulders, I dragged myself over to the window. It was the same every night; I went to bed with the window closed and locked, and hours later, I'd find it open and her as restless as ever. I wrestled with the wild bead curtain as they swung in the wind and the jammed track, and finally the thing closed hard. The glass rattled, and I wondered, not for the first time, how this little girl managed to open that window. Exhausted, I leaned my forehead on the cool glass and looked out on the dark street below.

_Who are you waiting for, kid? _

I was sure she was waiting for someone, but how long before she would realize no one was coming? I knew how much that hurt. I was eight the first time. For months I waited, left the porch light on for him...but I never saw or heard from my dad again. And then, of course, there was Renee...

Turning away from the street and those memories, I went to take my usual seat on the rocking chair. The girl screamed for her mom, tossing and knocking that massive book of hers off the bed. I tried to save it, but it hit the wooden floor with a loud thud, scattering loose pages noise was so loud, I was sure she'd wake up, but her eyes stayed closed.

Blindly, I gathered as many pages as I could and placed them inside where a frayed, dark ribbon held her spot. _Was she reading it?_I had every intention of closing the thing...but my fingers lingered on the soft leather hesitantly. It seemed like more than a book of fairytales. She didn't go anywhere without the damn thing, despite how heavy it was. The one time I asked to see it, she clutched it to her chest protectively. For two weeks, I was as curious as a cat, but now...

_Snooping through a child's book - am I really going to stoop so low?_

It was wrong, but logic argued that maybe I'd find some answers...at the very least maybe I could find out the girl's name.

Before I could change my mind, I flipped the book open and started reading - as best as I could by the moonlight. No two pages were alike: some were soft, others stiff and thick, different colors and sizes. Each was filled with faded inky calligraphy, strange plants, and drawings. Sections folded out, kept neat with frayed ribbon and waxy cords, but those pages were just as confusing-symbols and words, measurements and instructions. Some pages held me, almost like they had reached out and grabbed my wrists.

A sweet smell surrounded me, seeping out from the…book, making me feel dizzy and lightheaded. Dread, or maybe guilt - possibly both - sat heavy in my stomach. I got the feeling I wasn't supposed to be seeing the things I was seeing, but stubbornly, I pressed on, hoping to find something - anything that could fill in the blanks.

Midway through, the pages were empty, white, and smooth. Puzzled, I flipped back to the beginning, and those pages - pages I had just seen - were now blank. I could hear my heart racing and her rattling breaths as the book lay open and bare on my knees. When it fell from the bed, it had been near bursting from cover to cover. _It's just a book_, I told myself, _harmless._But a different voice disagreed.

I closed it, and placed the book back under the covers next to her with new found caution. _Who is she? _I asked myself before plopping down in the old rocking chair. As she tossed and turned, my suspicion grew and twisted in my gut. Two weeks she'd been with me - still it all seemed so...strange.

_I was up early that morning two weeks ago, like most mornings, drinking my coffee over the sink and doing my best to ignore the stack of documents on the table. But that wasn't so easily done. They had come in the mail the day before, as quietly as Renee had left. I couldn't deal with them; they were too painful, too final. After so long, Renee was everywhere…tormenting me with memories and frozen smiles from pictures she hadn't bothered to take with her. The smell of her spicy perfume hung in air, or maybe it just lived with me. She left me the house, but all I wanted was her. The ache in my chest throbbed painfully beneath my badge. I could have screamed or cried, but instead, I watched the shadows move across the backyard as the sun came up. _

_It wasn't much - green, neglected, and overgrown with grass so tall it came up to my knees. Thick trees divided the line between my property and wilderness, and each year it seemed that the wilderness came closer and closer. __**One day, it'll swallow the house. **__The thought made me smile in spite of everything. The backyard was one of the reasons we bought the house-we loved how close nature was. At least, I thought __**we**_ _loved it._

_In those trees, something moved, but I dismissed for an animal or some dumb kids - they were always sneaking out into the woods. I had done my share of sneaking in my youth. Then I saw it again, moving through the trees, tall and unnaturally white. I felt him watching me, and when our eyes met, his were cold and black. _

_Coffee forgotten, I stepped into the morning, armed with my Remington. The air was cold, and the grass damp from the night's rain, and I could see my breath in puffs of white. "Come out with your hands up, I'm armed!" I shouted. _

_He ignored my words and stayed within sight - toying with me, baiting me...leading me. I was vaguely aware that it could be a trap, but I crossed the line of trees regardless. I followed, over fallen moss covered trunks, wet grass, huge trees, and rocks. Then, he vanished completely, or perhaps he wasn't ever there, but just as I was feeling like a jackass, I found her._

_Huddled behind a tree, miles from my house, cold, and completely alone, was a little girl, wrapped in a blanket as green as the moss around her. Her eyes, red-rimmed and hard, dug holes into my face as she studied me. She remained still and unflinching, even with my gun pointed at her. _

_**She's just a kid. **_

_Ashamed, I lowered my gun and ran off a list of questions: how did you get here? where are you from? what is your name? how old are you? All of which were meet with silence and a hard stare, except for the next._

_"Where are your parents?" I asked, crouching down and covertly taking stock of her visible injuries from a distance._

_Her young face crumpled in despair, and huge tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks, prior intensity gone. She was lost, afraid, and alone in the world._

_I took her inside with me, and maybe that was wrong, but I couldn't leave her. I waited for someone to come looking for her, but no one came. I checked missing persons, but none of the children missing in the Washington area matched her description. _

Aside from the blanket, the book, and a necklace, she had nothing. She was a ghost. No birth certificate or social security number, no clues as to where she came from or who she belonged to. Abandonment was obvious, as was the terrible abuse, but something wasn't right about the whole mess.

"Mo...mommy." Her small voice startled me, bringing me back to the room.

She called for her mom all the time; it was the only word she said, and perhaps the only one she knew.I felt her sadness and fear - almost like they were my own - and pain…so much pain. Her breathing quickened and rattled in her chest as she slept restlessly, mumbling and crying out for someone who couldn't hear her. How long she spent in the cold air before I came along, I didn't know, but it had done a number on her. She was sick, and if she didn't get better, I'd have to take her to the doctor. That wasn't something I was looking forward to.

How would I explain? What would I say?

Her fist shot out from under the covers suddenly, distracting me, punching and scratching whatever or whoever was after her. I grabbed her hand and held it between both of mine, warming her cold fingers. It felt a little strange at first, but I wanted her to know she wasn't alone. _Isn't that what parents do?_And I didn't want her opening up the stitches. That would be another thing I couldn't explain.

Anger swept through me, as fresh as it had the first time I saw the stitches. That first day, she didn't sleep a wink - she curled up in my recliner and stared off into space, crying. Without long hair or a blanket to hide behind, the black thread stood out against pale skin. Dots of dried blood on her light blue shirt outlined a slash almost as long as her torso. Later, I saw the entire cut, angry and red, but it was only then that I realized just how much abuse she had taken.

Looking at her now sleeping face, I asked myself for the hundredth time, who could do such a thing to a kid? In most cases, the parents were the suspects, but…_they left her for dead..._then I remembered that man, how he led me to her, and I could believe that. He wanted me to have her, but why? Any officer would have taken her to the station and washed his hands knowing he followed protocol, but I hadn't...I couldn't. Was it love that kept me from turning her over - that kept me in this damn uncomfortable chair all night?

_You're talking crazy Charlie…love?_

It couldn't be. I wasn't her father. I didn't even know her… but leaving her alone at night, crying, made me uneasy. Something about those eyes got to me, pulled me in - like her book - they were so damned big and sad. What would I do if I was forced to turn her over to the state? The thought of her disappearing into the system and never seeing her again was more painful than I thought it could be. _You can't keep her a secret forever._Sooner or later, I'd have to go back to work, and she'd need to go to school.

A seed of a plan started forming as I drifted off to sleep. When I woke, the room was dim, my back was stiff, and two very sad eyes were watching me. I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, remembering my dream - the sweetness of Renee's lips and the warmth of her skin. Somehow, it felt wrong to dream about those things around the girl.

"Uhhh...rough night, huh kid?" She nodded slowly, tracing the faded writing on her book. "I used to have nightmares, too - they'll go away soon."

She didn't look convinced, and I wasn't too convinced myself, but it sounded like something a parent would say. She must have read the truth on my face, because she looked away towards the window, frowning.

Outside, the sky was grey and dark, promising rain; it matched her mood as she continued to trace the scrolls and letters. Just looking at the thing reminded me of the last night - the sickly sweet scent and the hold it had on me…the blank pages. A chill raced down my spine as I noticed that the book was bulging once more.

_How?_

I tried to ignore the sudden unease I felt around this tiny stranger, but she felt it - it was damn near impossible not to.

_I should have never looked through her book, never._

Her eyes shifted from my face to the book beside her, narrowing slightly before coming back to me, wide and knowing. It was impossible, but she knew. I felt ashamed, but instead of angry, she looked expectant and…scared. On the bed, legs crossed and silent as ever, she waited.

_Why is she scared?_

Clearing my throat, I told her to go get ready for breakfast. She looked at me hard, confused, and a little surprised, but got up and did as I asked. When the bathroom door clicked closed, I let out a huge sigh of relief and looked around the room.

The walls were different colors and covered in holes from where Renee had tacked things up and taken them down after she got bored. The closet door was hanging on by a hinge - evidence of my anger.

_If she's going to stay, we have to fix this place up a bit._

While I had slept, that seed of plan had blossomed - I only hope it worked. With a sigh, I went around gathering some of her clothes to wash, adding clothing to the growing list of things she'd need. I frowned, remembering the shopping trip, the helpful sales woman's expression when I didn't know the kid's sizes, the racks of girly clothes and shoes, and the pitying smiles every woman gave me. _Poor single father, he doesn't know what he's doing._They didn't know the whole story, but those smiles still bothered me, though not as much as the prospects of having to go shopping again. Under the bed, next to a sock, I found something I hadn't expected…

Her face said, _Pop Tarts, again?_as she sat down, bundled up in a blue sweater. Her jacket and scarf waited on the table next to her, along with gloves and a bag I knew held her most prized possession - her book.

_She's dressed to go out_, I realized ruefully. Her hair was brushed and braided, and I almost thanked her for not making me play hairdresser again. All that hair and my inexperienced hands - I was bound to make more knots than the last time.

Her eyes went from the chair to my face. _Are you going to sit with me?_ she asked every morning. She didn't like sitting alone, but I hadn't sat at that table in a long time, not since _she_left.

Renee and I had bought that table together at a yard sale. It was yellow, from seventies, and matched the cabinets. We ate every meal at that table. One summer morning, we even had sex on that table, giving it its wobble. Now, the papers sat at the table. _Irreconcilable differences,_they said. She didn't want anything from me. All she wanted was to not be married anymore - ten years...gone.

A little hand touched mine unexpectedly, warm and comforting. _I'm sorry_, her expression said - like she knew my pain. She didn't know - couldn't know - but her kindness made me feel better. I gave her a small smile and pushed the papers aside. I finished my coffee while she looked at her breakfast listlessly. She didn't like Pop Tarts or cereal, and I didn't know how to make much else.

_She's going to starve eating - or not eating - the crap you give her._

The urge to scold her, to tell her kids in Africa would kill for Pop Tarts, came out of nowhere, but I swallowed it and handed her a banana from the sling, taking her Pop Tarts for myself.

_What kid doesn't like pop tarts?_

"I have to go to the station today," I told her, swallowing the cinnamon pastry. "I'll only be gone for a little while, but I called my buddy to come watch you. He's a nice man and...he has a son you can play with."

She looked up at me and shook her head sadly. I noticed the dark bruise on her cheek had faded a bit, but the ones on her wrists were darker and her lip was still swollen...maybe she was afraid.

"Jake is a good boy, and I trust Billy with my life. I won't be long; you don't need to be scared."

She didn't answer - not that I had expected her to - and kept eating her banana. The silence that came from her then was different. _Yes, I do_, it said over and over. I wanted to argue, but what could I say? I didn't know what she had seen or what she been through. Just as Billy's truck came rumbling up the road, I saw her hand come up and grasp the crystal hanging around her neck.

_Yes, I do._

xXXx

"Sheriff Swan? What are you doing here?" Jeremiah asked, hands clasped behind his head while balancing his chair on two legs, his feet on the desk.

Jeremiah was new - green as grass and lazy to boot. Hank and Toni were at their desks, filling out reports. They looked up and nodded good morning. Rocco had a cup of coffee in one hand while he escorted the Anderson brothers to a holding cell, for more than likely fighting - or drinking.

"Morning, Sheriff, and good morning to you, little lady," Rocco said as he passed us.

I set the girl down and starting unbuttoning her jacket. "Morning, Rocco. Jeremiah, feet off the desk - now! Boys, what was it this time - drinking or fighting?"

"Both," Rocco answered over his shoulder.

Jeremiah was still leaning back on two legs, but at least his feet were off the table. "I thought you were on vacation...or ehhh, personal leave 'cause of Renee...who's that?"

"Shouldn't you be patrolling - not sitting on your backside with your feet up? You can do that at home," I grunted, pissed that he mentioned Renee. Damn small towns. "Come with me, kid."

She followed, after giving Jeremiah the stare down of his life. His chair tilted too far back, and he fell with a crash. He walked outside with his tail between his legs, and I laughed_._

Jamie walked in as I was settling her into the interrogation room with crayons and a coloring book. Above the girl's head, she arched an eyebrow. In Forks, everyone knew everything, and everyone knew I didn't have a daughter.

"I've got to make a few calls," I said, ignoring the question. "Can you keep an eye on her for me? Thanks, and Jamie - can you call Port Angeles about Jeremiah. If that boy doesn't start doing his job, I'm transferring him...to Alaska." She nodded and left without a word. I noticed those big eyes watching me again and tried to smile for her sake. "Are you okay? Dry? Good. I'll be back - don't leave this room unless I come and get you. Understand?"

My office was just the way I left it: neat and quiet. I sank in the chair and closed my eyes. I couldn't stop thinking about the spectacle Billy made less than an hour ago or how he - they didn't even come into the house.

_I was explaining about the girl when Billy stopped just before the porch and sniffed the air…like an animal. His face changed the moment she came out from behind the door and twisted in hatred. Had he really snarled at her? Stay away from her Jake, he warned, shielding his son as if some rabid animal stood at my door, not a tiny six year old. Jake was curious about her, but careful. He looked at her like a bug - new and undiscovered. Jake said she was pretty. Billy said she was unnatural and dangerous, and my mind flew to the book. I could still see the world of hurt in her eyes - __**unnatural and dangerous**__. The book meant nothing, I told myself as I stood between the child and my oldest friend. I took her in, promised to keep her safe, even from Billy. "She's a little girl, just like your girls, and she has no one," I told him but he stalked off to his truck, pulling young Jake with him. "You're a fool, Charlie," he spat, throwing one last look at the girl on the porch. "She won't replace Renee. Put her back where you found her and hope her kind comes and claims her, and if not...at least she's out of your hands."_

Crazy bastard - how could he suggest such a thing?

She hadn't even been surprised by the reaction; it hurt her, but she expected it. While I fumed, cursing up a storm, she just put on her jacket and gloves. The same nagging feeling flared up again, the one I had when I found her, the one I got every time she seem to know what I was thinking...feeling.

_What little girl expects disgust and hatred from strangers?_

I reached into my pocket, laid the picture on the desk, and picked up the phone. It rang half a dozen times before someone answered. I asked for my friend and looked at the smiling faces, the girl, and her mom. She looked so happy. It was a long shot, but if Logan didn't know, no one did.

"Sheriff Logan Eidler," my friend answered in a cheerful tone. "Sitka Police Department."

"Hey, Logan, it's Charlie. I could use your help."

Logan listened to what I had to say, and when I was done, he cleared his throat - the way people do before they tell you something terrible. I braced myself.

"Yeah, I know who you're talking about. They lived up near The Sisters, all six of them: three boys, a girl, and the parents. Folks around here didn't like them very much, said things...you know how it is in small towns. People have their superstitions, raving about witches and devil worshipers. In the year that they lived there, we never had any problems with the family; they were pleasant, but kept to themselves - not that I blame them. Some folks use to visit the mom for...spells and herbal remedies. Nathan, the dad, was a fisherman…had his own boat.

"Anyways, about two weeks ago, Sara Miller comes to the station rambling about how the house was burned down, blood was all over the place, and the family was gone. Our people found pieces of four males, the boys and their dad more than likely, in the house...human ash out front, but the little girl was missing. We've been looking for her, but...no one seems to know anything. No one saw anything, or if they did, they're not talking. I'm sorry, Charlie. You said you found her things in an abandoned car?"

"Near the 101 highway," I managed to say, my heart in my throat.

"She hadn't started school yet, but I saw her around now and then. She was a real sweet girl, curious like kids at that age are, but shy. I don't know what happened or how she vanished, but where ever she is, I pray she's safe."

I hung up and stared at the little girl in the photo. She was missing her two front teeth, and her arms were tight around her mom's neck as the colorful totems stood behind them. She looked like her mom, I thought sadly - same dark hair and pale skin. I flipped the picture over and on the back, in elegant writing, it read, _Isabella and Mommy, Sitka National Historical Park, age 6._

"Sheriff Swan...we need the room."

Too stunned to be startled by her intrusion, I watched silently as Jamie ushered the girl in and put her things, along with the drawings she had done while I was on the phone, on my desk. "You can keep the crayons and coloring book, sweetie - my Emma is too old for coloring now."

The girl looked different after all that I had learned; suddenly, she didn't seem so young. Everything made sense: the muteness, the nightmares, the abuse...even Billy's reaction to her - _unnatural and dangerous_. I wondered how many times she had heard that in her short life.

I thanked Jamie and asked her to close the door. Isabella - she stared me meekly, standing in front of my desk, waiting to see what I would do. I recognized her expression from this morning; she was waiting for me to yell, call her names, and throw her out.

_How long do people need to mistreat you before you came to expect it?_

"I found this...under your bed this morning. You lived in Sitka, didn't you?" She nodded, looking at nothing but the photograph. She must have thought it was gone, along with everything else. "Your family...you were with them when...they died, weren't you?" A tear crept down her cheek as she nodded. "Do you know how you got to Washington?" She pointed at the pictures; one was of a ferry boat. At a glance, the pictures on my desk were like any other kid's drawings, but when I looked closer, I saw that they must be things she remembered: a boat, scary men hiding in the dark, fire, her mom and a pale blond man with golden eyes, who reminded me of a different man - one with a wild mop of copper hair.

"Someone saved you, Isabella. Was it this man?" I held up the drawing, noticing that she signed all her drawings _Bella _in blue crayon_._"Do you know who he is? His name?"

She tried to remember, but came up with nothing - probably due to the bump on her head. She looked up at me, frightened. Her hands were trembling, and soon, she was sobbing and calling for her mom softly. _Why was she so scared?_Unable to stand it anymore, I got up and wrapped my arms around her, wishing I could make it better with that small gesture.

"It's okay...you don't need to remember right now," I whispered once she calmed down, still hugging her softly. "But we do need to figure out what we're going to do. Do you have any other family?" I felt her shake her head against my shoulder. "I didn't think so. Listen kid, I'm not good with this stuff, but if you want…you could stay with me."

She pulled away, obviously shocked by my question. The look she gave me was almost funny - her eyes opened wide, making her look like a cartoon.

_You want to keep me?_

I kept my voice low and my hands loosely around her arms. "Sooner or later, someone might come looking for you." As soon as I said the words, I knew someone _would_come for her, but I tried not to think about it. "Or maybe they won't, but for now—"

A knock interrupted me mid-sentence. The door opened, and I rolled my eyes as I picked Isabella up and put her in my chair. I knew it was only a matter of time before Shelly Cope "dropped by." She had been coming by my house almost every day.

"Sheriff Swan, what a surprise to see you at the station! We thought we lost you after the trollop made off with your heart. Never trust a girl with no roots, Momma always says. Oh, who do we have here? Who are you, darling girl?"

Isabella made a face, and shrank into the seat. "She's my niece, Isabella. Was there something I could help you with or..." _are you just being nosey?_

She smiled beneath her scarf and waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, it's not important. Your niece? But you don't have-"

"No, but apparently I have a half brother." I let her draw her own conclusions; it was better that way. Shelly looked at Isabella sympathetically, noting her broken lip and bruised cheek. "She's going to be staying with me for a while."

Bella heard the question in my voice and nodded. A prickle of joy and fear raced through me at that point. A million things flew through my mind: _unnatural and dangerous_, witch, devil worshiper, but I decided it didn't matter. People were insane. She was staying with me.

Shelly left us after promising to bring over a chicken casserole so 'we wouldn't starve.' The whole town, and maybe the next one over, would know about 'my niece' by the time Shelly put that casserole in the oven, and for once, I glad to have so many gossiping busybodies in town. After a few more calls, we packed her things and put on our jackets in silence. My mind was running down the list of things I needed to do and buy when she surprised me by slipping her hand in mine as we walked out of the station and into the rain.

She smiled for the first time - her gaps prominent and cute. My heart leaped in my chest, much the way it did when I first laid eyes on Renee, and I gave her hand a little squeeze.

"Let's go home, Bella."

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><p><strong>AN: Th****oughts? **

**T****hank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you next time!**

**XX  
>Autumn<br>**


	6. Everything is different

**A/N: Here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it. Warning for some mild violence.**

**Thank you to my wonderful Beta, Nachos4Children, you rock and fix my many comma issues.  
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**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Twilight and its characters belongs to SM, I just play with them.  
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**Enjoy!  
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><p>Bella's POV<p>

"Oh, I've heard of you—isn't there some mystery about you?'

-Black Oxen 1923

My room was blue, like the sky before sunset, but I must have fallen deeper into my dream because the walls melted to trees and ash, and instead of being in my soft bed, I was lying on hard ground, bleeding from somewhere and in pain again. Everything was different. In the dark, things moved around me. My house was gone and my family, too. I felt empty like a cup - like someone had tipped me over and spilled out all the important things, like a well with no water. The emptiness was so deep, and at the bottom, was pain, and it didn't really go away.

My finger swirled in the dirt, writing blindly, my lips moved silently around a word I didn't know. It was quiet, and my head was pounding. The smell of blood, soot, and grass was everywhere, and the darkness was pulling at me, wanting to take me away. _Not yet_, I thought, _wait_. I waited for someone to come, a curious animal or person…but no one came.

_Who was supposed to come for me? Where they?_

The darkness won.

For a long time - or maybe it only felt like a long time - the world was black and silent. Then I heard a car and hushed voices. At first they were far away, shoes crunching softly on the forest floor, then they came closer and closer until they stood right next to me. I saw myself through their eyes and was convinced that I must be dead…I looked dead.

One of them lifted me up and held me to their chest - it felt no different than the cold hard ground, and… I didn't hear the thump of a heart. I was afraid, but as hard as I tried, I couldn't move or scream. We started flying; the cold wind whipped my face and legs like ice. Maybe they were ghosts, coming to take me away.

Maybe I really was dead.

Their touch was like winter as they worked to clean the blood and dirt from my skin. _"Oh God_,_"_ the man whispered, getting the other's attention, and I saw him for the first time. He had the brightest amber eyes, hair that shined like a penny, and skin as white as the moon. He reminded me of someone, but I didn't know who. _Why can't I remember?_His sister looked the same, but her hair was black like a raven, and her head was too confusing to stay in.

They spoke fast - too fast for me hear what they were saying, but it was about me. I saw the man I knew, but didn't, blond and tall, in one of their minds, and my heart beat faster. Was he my friend? I could have looked at him all day and night, warmed myself with his smile and kind eyes, but when the ghost focused on my back and threaded a needle, I stopped looking.

The gash was terrible, red and deep, and as soon as he pierced the skin I screamed. They didn't hear me, and I didn't move, but inside, I was howling, crying, and begging them to stop the torture. I called out to my mom, she would protect me, make them stop…but then I remembered she was gone.

They were all gone, and I was alone.

Something banged below me, and I woke up - back in my blue room and warm bed. Today was my birthday, the second one without my family. With my parents and brothers, birthdays were special; they made the day feel magical. I closed my eyes and tried to see them how they were, happy and smiling, but what I saw wasn't happy, and no one was smiling. Things just didn't feel the same now.

Even birthday wishes stopped coming true.

Outside, the sky was gloomy like always, but I didn't mind - I liked it. It fit. I got dressed for school slowly, picking a green sweater, grey wool tights, a brown skirt, and my favorite boots with the little daisies, wishing I could skip it. I thought about making it a snow day. There wasn't school on snow days, but then I remembered that I couldn't do that. I didn't know how to do anything, at least not on purpose.

_Shit! Shit! Shit! Easy to bake, my ass! _Charlie never cursed out loud, but in his head, he didn't hold back. If he only knew that I could hear him, he'd turn as red as a tomato. _Go to hell, Betty Crocker! _I wondered who this Betty Crocker was and what Charlie was doing so early in the morning to get him this upset. He called up to me, and I put my brush down and got my back pack.

The smell of burnt food was strong in the hall, but as I came down the stairs, it got worse. I wrinkled my nose and hoped that it wasn't breakfast. I'd take Pop Tarts over whatever that was.

Bent over the counter with a spoon in his hand, I found Charlie muttering to himself. There was no mistaking the bright pink stuff smeared on the spoon or the sugary smell of vanilla - frosting. When he saw me, he tried to hide the cake behind his back, but it was no use - I saw it in his head. It was a charred, dark pink lump - lopsided and messy. Strawberry cake, the box said, but the smell was unlike any strawberry I had ever experienced. Pink frosting was oozing down the side and on to the counter, and a bright yellow number eight was sinking into the middle.

It was beautiful, and it was for me - or maybe it was beautiful _because _it was for me. Whichever it was, it didn't matter: Charlie baked me a cake. Standing on my tippy toes, I pretended to look at the cake behind him, feeling a little happier than before I came down the stairs.

"Uhh…Happy Birthday, Bells," he said, stepping aside to reveal his creation. "Sorry, I'm not much of a baker…I'll get one from the market later."

Words were still hard for me, but when I needed to, I spoke...as little as possible. "Don't…it's perfect."

My voice sounded raspy and broken, probably because I almost never used it. Charlie noticed but said nothing, he was happy enough to see me happy. Charlie was different from my mom and dad - they hugged me all the time, but he wasn't sure when to hug or not to hug. He cared about me though, that much I could always feel, even in his rare and awkward hugs.

Before I could scoop a dollop of frosting, Charlie handed me a banana and ushered us out of the house. He hated being late, and I was always too early - good thing the library opened before school. On the way, Charlie's thoughts drifted from his messy cake and the dinner he was planning to make, onto school - my school. He didn't like leaving me there any more than I liked it, but there wasn't much of a choice.

Kids had to go to school, he had explained last year, and at first, I had been a little excited. I liked learning, but after the first day, I had decided I hated school. It was too loud - everyone thinking at the same time, kids were mean, and the teachers didn't care. I had even managed to make an enemy - Jessica - and because Lauren was her best friend, she hated me, too.

"Have a nice day, Bells," he said when we pulled up to Forks Elementary. _And please try to make a friend, just one_, he finished in his head. It wasn't a lot to ask; I wished I could make just one so Charlie wouldn't worry so much.

Teachers waved, carrying their big bags and coffee mugs and felt...pity towards us. I learned what pity felt like with Mrs. Cope. Every time she looked at me, she felt this deep sadness for me - she felt the same for Charlie.

I didn't want to get out of the car. Jessica and Lauren were in my class, and with the sky so dark, the school looked like a prison - or at least what I imagined a prison to look like, but I grabbed my backpack and got out. As the lights of Charlie's patrol car faded, I wished that he had taken me to work with him. Anything was better than school.

In class, Mrs. Jacobson, a short and easily bothered woman, introduced a new student, Angela Weber, to the class and asked us to make her feel welcome. I felt bad for her - it wasn't easy being the new kid,and already, I heard Jessica calling her "Four-Eyes" instead of Angela in her head.

The morning passed like a lot of the others: math, spelling, grammar, and reading. My teacher had given up trying to pull words from me after the first couple of days, and as long as I did my work, she ignored me. I didn't mind, it was easier to concentrate without her kneeling beside my desk asking me a million library was closed at recess, so I had to be on the playground. Jessica and Lauren teased me for existing, and the other kids went along like dumb sheep. At least they didn't hit me this time. I spent most of the day building and rebuilding that glass wall mommy had shown me. Inside, I was safe, but…I was alone. It didn't feel right though, and it shattered half a million times. I knew someone belonged inside with me, but I couldn't remember who.

At lunch, everyone huddled together, some even squished into benches or smashed up against one another so they wouldn't have to sit with me. I was used to it; no one ever sat with me. Just as I took a bite of my peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, the new girl sat down across from _me._ She smiled and started eating a weird-looking sandwich. _Had my wish come true?_I was too surprised to keep eating, instead I watched her. She had glasses and brown hair, smelled of chocolate, and she was nice - inside and out. The library was closed again during lunch, so I had no choice but to go out on the playground...again. She followed me, too shy to ask if we could be friends - too shy to ask if I ever talked.

"What are you doing, freak?" Jessica asked, running with her jump rope in one hand to where we sat on the swings. Her friends were behind her, asking the same question. Their thoughts buzzed like a million bees swarming around me. My hands tightened on the chains, but I didn't say anything.

_Fight back_, a voice said, but I was scared; scared of what _I_might do.

Lauren must have known I was scared. "Freak's afraid! What's the matter freak, want your mommy and daddy?"

Mike elbowed his way past the other kids, a basketball under one arm. "Come on Jess, she's not bothering anyone. Let's go play somewhere else."

"Shut up, Mike...or do you loooove Little Miss Freak?"

Mike's face went red, and he looked at his shoes. "No."

"That's what I thought, 'cause then her freakishness would rub off on you, and who wants to friends with a dirty _freak_?"

She looked over at me, and I saw my first day of school in her head: me standing in front of the class, bruised, embarrassed and scared. She didn't like me from the start, but when Mike started talked to me she decided to hate me. It wasn't my fault. He was my desk buddy, shared crayons with me, and then at lunch, he gave me his chocolate pudding. I never asked him to be my friend; he was just a nice boy.

"Why are you still on the swing? These are the non-freak swings. Get off!"

I shook my head and gripped the chains tighter. I was here first.

_Just get off the swing, Bella, _Mike thought so loudly it hurt my ears.

"Oh, you can't hear either, huh?"Jessica smiled, but instead of looking friendly, she looked like... a snake eating a mouse. She wanted to hurt me. "That must be why your mom and dad left you with Charlie. Who could love a freak who can't talk or hear? My mommy says even Charlie was a bad choice-he's a train wreck, even his wife didn't love him."

I got off the swing then, too mad to stay sitting. I could feel my blood rushing through me, pulsing with my anger. The sky was gray and cold, but I felt hot, burning like fire as my nails dug into my palms. _You have to control yourself._ I remembered the last time I lost it…I couldn't remember everything, but I remembered blood-lots of it. _Unnatural and dangerous,_the wolf man said, but it couldn't be true.

The others joined in calling me all their favorite words, _freak_, _loser_…_punching bag_. They thought it was funny; Mike hated it, but said nothing. I thought it was sad.

"Stop it! Leave her alone! I'm telling!" Angela threatened, jumping up from her swing, but they laughed and gathered around us.

They were so much taller than both of us; some of the boys towered over Lauren, who was pretty tall. I couldn't see the yard with them standing so close or the yard monitor—we were alone. Lauren shoved Angela hard into one of the other girls. "Ohhh, I'm sooo scared! Four-Eyes is going to tell on us!"

They all took up the same cry, now pushing both of us from one person to the next. Angela was scared - I could feel it pouring from her - and probably regretting where she choose to eat her lunch. She wouldn't want to be my friend now, I thought sadly.

Jessica pushed me into Tyler; I fell against him hard, losing my balance. He turned, opening the circle, and let me fall to the floor. My hands and knees scraped on the gravel, tiny rocks ripping into my skin and tights.

_Don't cry, _I reminded myself. _Don't cry._

While I was on the ground, the kids closed up the circle, turning their backs to me, but Angela was still on the inside. Over the taunts and laughing, I could hear her crying, or maybe I _felt _her crying, but it didn't matter. Forgetting the blood, the throbbing in my hands, and the little rocks stuck in my skin, I shoved my way into the circle looking for Jessica.

When I found her, I planted my feet and punched her with all my strength - just like Charlie had taught me. _If they hit you, hit back, Bella_, he'd told me. Her head jerked, and her feet tangled on the discarded jump ropes. She fell on her butt with loud girly squeal, taking Lauren with her.

I could feel their eyes, even Angela's, on my back. They called me a _freak_in their heads and planed to make my life miserable. Didn't they know? Nothing they could do to me was worse than what I had already lived through.

"Who do you think you are?" Jessica wailed from the floor, holding her bloody nose.

Mike helped Jessica and Lauren up, but in his head he replayed the punch over and over. Their friends went to stand beside them quietly. Jessica's pink sweater was red down the front, and blood dripped from her nose onto her glittery pink tennis shoes. Even if she was a rotten girl, I felt bad.

I was about to apologize when Jessica rushed towards me with the long jump ropes in her hands. I tried to run away, but I was frozen; my feet wouldn't move, even when she pulled me towards the tether ball pole, I stumbled and tripped behind her. Tyler came to help Jessica, and Lauren was saying, "Tie her up, tie her up!" Her four friends copied her; their words melting into one loud _baaaah._Mike stood there saying nothing - I thought he would help me, but instead, he left. The ropes got tighter the more I tried to wiggle free.

_This was how my mom felt_, I thought, and suddenly, it was hard to breathe. This was how she died, and tears welled up in my eyes.

_Not this, anything but this._

"Let me go! Please!" I closed my eyes and screamed, "Let me go! Charlie!"

"It talks, everybody!" Jessica shouted, surprised. "Your uncle can't hear you, dummy! And your parents aren't coming either."

My tears ran hot down my face, and through the blur, I could only see Jessica - her smiling face, eyebrows slanted, and light brown hair braided to the side. She wore the same face when she pushed me off the monkey bars, the same one when she poured paint on my lap and dumped her milk over my head, each time when she tripped me, stole my lunch box, or made fun of me. Every bit of hate and anger I could feel came up like fire, swirling in my stomach, begging to be let out. The play ground noises muffled, and all I could hear was Jessica's thoughts, so cruel and evil. How could I have felt bad for punching her?

She deserved that and more!

"Not so tough now, Freak." She hit the tether ball with her hand, and it whirled around and around 'til it hit my head, knocking it back into the pole. My ears rang, and anger boiled over; everything was quiet - still - and then it all crashed around me. I heard a snap, and Jessica screamed, a sound full of pain.

What did I do?

I shivered; I knew that scream. It echoed in the now quiet playground, a million screams over and over. A memory tugged at me, making me remember. Angela was looking at me through broken glasses, and the other kids looked back and forth from me to Jessica, not understanding what had just happened. I struggled to stay where I was, shutting my eyes against the vision.

"Not now," I cried, twisting against the jump ropes.

"She broke my arm!" Jessica kept screaming, and even her friends started to think she was crazy. How could I do it? I was tied up. Only I knew the truth, Jessica suspected. "Bend your arm," Lauren suggested, and when Jessica tried to, she let out another scream, sobbing and begging for her mom.

I did that..._Unnatural and Dangerous._

The sound washed over me - a voice from a morning I tried to forget - pulling me back to a place I didn't want to be. Old smells washed away the wet scent of Forks, bringing the scent of my house burning, my mom dying, and _him_.

_I tried to run, but his knife caught me before I could get far, slicing the length of my back. It was so sharp, I felt the blood run down my legs before the pain. When the pain hit, my knees buckled, and I fell to the ground hard. I tried to crawl away, but he was on me in seconds. I screamed for help, but only my own screams answered, echoing off the trees. _

_We were alone. His hand curled around my ankle, turning me over and dragging me back to where he had pinned me before. He hovered over me, the moonlight and flames playing over his face. "Precious girl," he called me as his lips scraped against my throat, his breath a disgusting mix of rotten cheese and mint. Don't cry, I told myself, it's what he wants. I squirmed, punched, and kicked, but he was strong - everyone was always so strong. One hand grabbed both of mine and held them above my head, while the other dragged along my legs. His thoughts were terrible, a confusing jumble of body parts and excitement. I knew enough to be afraid._

"_Why'd you run from me, precious girl?" he whispered, licking my jaw. "Why you'd make me hurt you? Do you want to end up like your momma?"_

"_Yes," I answered truthfully. Death was better than this._

_He slapped me. "I might do it - after I'm done with you, but only if you're good."_

_He explained what he was going to do to me, how he was going to make me scream. Letting go of my wrists, he ran both hands down my body, his breath heavy in my ear. My skin crawled, but I said nothing, clamping my jaw shut. He squeezed my waist, making it hard for me to breathe, before moving to the edge of my night shirt. _

_Rough hands rested upon my thighs, waiting. "Scream for me," he whispered._

_Then…the world paused, went quiet, as if someone froze time. The next thing I heard was his scream, deep and terrified. His face was a bloody mess, pieces of it hanging off in ribbons. He didn't stop screaming. What I did, I couldn't say. It was dark, and I was scared, but when I was done, my hands were sticky. He wasn't moving, and in the moonlight, his blood looked black. I lay down, weak and tired. Someone was coming for me, I knew it._

_My fingers swirled in the dirt, and my lips moved around a name I didn't know. I waited, but nobody came. Darkness took over, but I was safe, and no one was going to hurt me again._

xXXx

The principal was a weak man; he didn't like to make waves or start trouble, and he hated conflict. Unfortunately for me and Charlie, he was also in love with Jessica's mom - a tall, thin woman with bunny teeth. Principal Eckhart couldn't take his mind off Mrs. Stanley. He tacked his last name on to hers and pictured her naked, even though she was married, and so was he. Charlie was furious, but I couldn't tell if it was because I was accused of breaking Jessica's arm or because I looked like I had been in a schoolyard fight.

Of course, both were true, but Jessica was a great liar; she swore that she didn't do anything to me. Charlie glared at her, looked over to where I sat - hair tangled, ripped tights and bloodied knees, and scraped palms - and told her it was against the law to lie to a police officer. He didn't even know about the tetherball pole.

"That little...witch punched my Jessie in the face and broke her arm. I want her expelled, Thomas!" She wanted use another word, but when _witch_popped out of her mouth, she knew it was the right one. Charlie hated the word, or maybe he hated how she said it.

"That's a load of bull, and you know it, Eckhart - especially coming from the mother of that bully. Jessica has been tormenting my kid since she walked into this damn school. Tell me you aren't thinking of punishing Isabella for something she didn't do based on the word of a liar."

"Please, she's not even your kid. Her parents dropped her off with you more than year ago, at their wits end, no doubt, and haven't come back. Can't say that I blame them - she's wild, and you're obviously unfit—"

"She is mine and be very careful with your next words, Louise," Charlie said in a low and threatening voice, "there isn't much that happens in this town without the Sheriff finding out."

I looked at Charlie, surprised that he claimed me. I wasn't his, but if not him, who _did_I belong to?

She reddened, angry and embarrassed; her mind flew to her husband, angry fights, upset neighbors, police cars, and a car accident. The tiny office was thick with tension and anger, mixed feelings, and confusion. Principal Eckhart just wanted this sorted and kept thinking about Louise in High School, when she had been his. I put my head down on my knees; it was too much, and I was tired.

"Charlie," Principal Eckhart started, spreading his hands on the desk. "It's Jessica's words against Isabella's, and since she refuses to talk, even to defend herself… Two students have already come forward and confirmed that they saw Isabella—"

"Let me guess: Lauren Malloy and Tyler Crowley. What a coincidence that their parents happen to be part of the PTA with Louise and Jessica's very best friends. When Jessica pushed Bella off the monkey bars—"

Louise gasped, offended that her "Jessie" was accused of being anything but perfect. "That was an accident!"

"And when Isabella told you that Jessica pushed her, you said things like this happen on the playground, and that I should let it go. _'Kids will be kids_,'" Charlie continued, ignoring her interruption. "Pushing a kid off monkey bars seemed like more than horseplay to me; Isabella's arm was broken in two places, dammit. She was terrified to go back to school for weeks. You did nothing. You told her to toughen up, if I remember correctly. What's the difference now?"

"It's not my fault if she can't hold on to the bars," Jessica muttered under her breath.

I heard her, but I wasn't sure anyone else had until Charlie looked her with his cop face, hard brown eyes, every bit of softness gone. "Unless you're going to start telling the truth young lady, be quiet."

She shrank back behind her mom, cradling her bright pink cast. I rolled my eyes. Everything she owned was pink, and it made me sick. There was a knock at the door, and Principal Eckhart answered it, thankful for the interruption. Only one person at this school really truly liked me - Mr. Prince, the librarian. He walked in with Angela, smiled his old, wrinkled smile at me, and closed the door behind him. Both Louise and the principal wanted to know why he had come and why he brought a student with him. When he started to explain, neither was very happy.

It turned out that Mike had run to get Mr. Prince and told him what was happening on the playground. I was "unconscious and glassy-eyed" when he found me tied to the tetherball pole, and all the kids were back in class. He untied me and took me to the nurse's office where they called Charlie and told him to come to the school. While he described how tight the ropes had been, Charlie fumed. I thought steam would come out of his ears, he was so mad.

Coming to kneel in front of me, he pushed back the sleeves of my sweater. My wrists were criss crossed with the diamond pattern from the ropes, red and chafed, and in some places, the rope had cut into my skin. Blocking the other's view, he lifted up my sweater just enough to see the matching marks around my waist. His brown eyes were sad as he smoothed my sweater into place and grabbed my hand in his large one.

_Why didn't you say anything Bella?_he thought.

"So? Some other kids tied her up," Louise said with a shrug. "That doesn't prove that it was my Jessica or that that kid didn't break my daughter's arm. I want her expelled."

"Tell Principal Eckhart and Sheriff Swan what you told me, dearie," Mr. Prince urged Angela, giving her an encouraging pat on the back.

Angela looked out through her broken glasses, eyes wide and nervous. She told them everything: the taunting, the names, and the punch. "They started it. We were on the swings, we weren't bugging nobody. They were pushing me, and Bella was only trying to help. Jessica tied Bella up, and Lauren kept saying '_tie her up, tie her up._' Bella asked them to let her go, but they kept laughing. She hit the ball, and it hit Bella's head, and then…she screamed. Her arm just broke, but it wasn't Bella."

Louise suggested that Angela was covering for me, but Principal Eckhart told her it was Angela's first day, and that I didn't exactly "inspire friendship." That made Charlie angry all over again; he snatched my backpack off the chair and picked me up as if he didn't want me touching any part of this school.

"Some school you're running here, Thomas - a gang of thugs, bullies, and liars in training. We're leaving, and I expect you to do something about this, or I will."

The drive home was quiet, Charlie drove much faster than what he considered safe. When we got home, the messy cake was gone and in its place sat a new cream-colored one. I had forgotten it was my birthday. He cleaned my cuts and scrapes and covered them with cream and bright band-aids with the same expression he wore after speaking to his cop friend in Sitka last year. He looked at me for a long time before dropping a soft kiss on my head and telling me to go play outside-he had a call to make and didn't want me hearing it. Even from the edge of his back yard, I could hear him.

"I was actually proud of her for punching the kid - still am - but then I hear they tied her to a pole! What kind of kids do that? Jessica hates her. I have no fucking clue why, but every day it's something different!" His hand came down hard on the little yellow table, and his anger melted into sadness. "I'm failing her, Sue." He was thinking of my parents - not the ones he told everyone I had - but my real ones.

Sue was the only person in the wolf tribe who didn't hate me - her and Jacob - but he'd hate me soon enough. His dad hated me.

I sat there listening, guilty, in the tall grass. I'd made liars out of Angela and Charlie…What would they think if they knew the truth? I _was_dangerous and unnatural. The thought made me sad, and tears sprang into my eyes.

Only one person could help me; she had helped before, but she was gone. Would I be this way...forever?

_Poor thing. _

I looked up, expecting to see Charlie, but I was alone.

_Shit, does she know we're here? _

The voices came from behind me, beyond the line of trees. When I searched, I found three minds. I saw myself, looking in their direction, scrubbing the tears from my face with my sweater. They were watching me; two spoke, but the other was quiet, determined not to think or say anything, but there was something different about them. Their minds were huge and busy, very busy. And my throat was burning…like a dying campfire. I knew at once that they weren't like other people.

Looking back towards the house, I made sure Charlie was still on the phone before crossing the line of trees and following my curiosity.

Over trees and fallen wet leaves, I followed their thoughts and the smell of spices and flowers mom used to point out on walks. They didn't seem like the dangerous sort, so I figured I'd be safe. When I came to the place where Charlie found me last year, I found a small pile of gifts wrapped in pretty silver paper with ice blue bows.

Confused, I looked around. Were they for me? One of the gifts came running to me, its bright blue and opal eyes shining. The little kitten was black as night and friendly. He rubbed the side of his face against my cheek, like Violet used to, and I snuggled against his soft coat. With the kitten in my lap, I sat by the fallen tree covered in moss and waited.

They were whispering among themselves quickly, and I could only catch snatches of what they were saying. "We're only supposed to watch," one said. "I want to meet her, she's almost part of the family," the second one said, impatiently. I wondered what she meant by that - the only family I had was far away, by the sea. "She smells so good," the third said in a harsh whisper, finally giving up the silence. All three agreed, and I put my nose to my sweater, sniffing hard. I smelled like detergent.

"I can hear you," I said in a low voice, wincing at the stinging in my throat. Out here, surrounded by the trees and forest and nature, it was easier to talk. It hurt me; deep in my heart the words stung, but not as much as they did around other people. The three weren't like everyone else; they were like me, and they understood what it was like to lose the people you loved. "You can come out; I'm not going to hurt you."

They didn't answer or come out, so I kept talking, swallowing hard to wet my dry throat. "How'd you know it was my birthday? I love the kitten…but I'm not sure I deserve him or the other gifts. I did something bad today."

If my mom were alive she'd be disappointed, and that was worst than angry. _You have to control yourself, Bella,_she'd say. I wondered if it was for my safety or the other kids' that she kept me away from them. Still, the three ladies - oh yes, they were ladies, I could see that now - stayed hidden, but their thoughts and voice swirled. They were confused and arguing.

"Who are you, and why are you watching me? If you're not going to come out, can you stop talking so fast - my head hurts," I growled, annoyed with their hiding.

A light and musical laugh rang through the trees, and more chuckles followed, beautiful sounds. Then, one by one, they stepped out from behind trees much closer than I thought. My heart pounded in my chest like a drum, could they be related to my ghosts? Each one was pale, paler than even I was, and they had eyes that glowed like sun-lit amber…and just like the two in my dream, there was no thump of a heart.

The one with long, reddish-blonde hair kneeled in front of me and brushed a stray hair from my face with a cold hand. I shivered and smiled; my heart knew a touch like that. It seemed familiar somehow.

"Sorry about the headache, darling. We forgot that you could hear us." She smiled, and I narrowed my eyes at the pretty stranger. How did she know I could hear her? "And you most definitely deserve the kitten and the books; it's your birthday after all."

"That Jessica girl is vile and deserved what she got," the stranger with long blonde hair said with a dry laugh. She pulsed like a live wire, and I made sure not to touch her.

The dark-haired stranger leaned closer. "She won't be bothering you anymore, Bella."

"How...how do you know me?" I asked, astonished, looking from one face to another.

"A friend sent us."

I didn't have any friends, but she said it so simply, I believed her. Inside her head was like a maze of pictures and moments, people that stirred my memory, but faded before I could actually remember them.

_She's extraordinary, even more than Alice and Edward made her out to be._

My ghosts! They knew the two I dreamed about!

The blonde one was watching me, biting her lip with sharp looking teeth. _I wonder what else she can do._

_Poor Carlisle, _the dark-haired one thought. I saw the same tall and blond man I saw in the head of the copper-headed ghost, Edward. The picture was so clear in her head, I could almost smell him - like mint, sage, and apples.

"I know him!" I shouted excitedly, forgetting my aching throat. "Well…I don't, but I do. That sounds crazy," I whispered, shaking my head. "Who is he? Who is Carlisle?"

He vanished suddenly, ripped away and hidden deep in her head where I couldn't reach. My heart throbbed, and tears threaten to spill over my eyes. Who was he?

"Nice one, genius," the reddish-blonde one scolded her sister, before turning her attention to me. She seemed sorry, like she wanted to tell me, but couldn't. "Bella, we were only supposed to watch, make sure that you were safe, and leave those gifts for you. We weren't supposed to actually talk to you like this, if anyone knew…" she trailed off, and her sister, the blonde buzzing one, picked up the words.

"There could be trouble, but we were so very curious about you." They all nodded together, and the kitten nipped at my fingers softly, curious as well.

The dark-haired one grabbed my hand. "Can it be our little secret? You can keep a secret, right, Bella?"

They hadn't answered my question, and I knew they wouldn't. Their minds were locked, like so many doors shutting in my face. They knew him or of him, and somewhere deep in my heart, I knew that he was important, though why and where I knew him from was lost to me. I thought of Charlie, of how much he worried about me, and wondered what he would say if he knew what I was doing, if he'd think it was a good idea. Soon, he'd come looking for me, and he always warned against strangers. I didn't know how much longer I had, so I did the only thing I could do.

"I won't tell a soul," I promised.

Later that night, while Charlie snored down the hall, I lay in my bed whispering his name out loud, the kitty purring against my cheek. I saw his face - golden and kind. I could remember the smell of him, deep and calming like the sage that had grown in my mom's garden - clean like watermint and apples. Tugging the blanket tighter around me, I imagined that it was him keeping me safe - it kinda smelled like him.

"Carlisle," I said into the darkness, hoping stupidly that he'd show up, hoping my birthday wish would come true this year. When he didn't, I closed my eyes, and that spot in my chest - the one where mommy and daddy and my brothers all lived - hurt a little more than it did the day before.

Everything was different.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you so much for reading! **

**XX  
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**Autumn  
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	7. Play dates and Wolves

**A/N: Thank you to all of you who have been reading. I'm so thankful to you. I'm also thankful to my wonderful Beta Nachos for Children. A heap of gratitude to you, darling!  
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**Enjoy!  
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><p>"Well, at times it's awfully lonely."- A Girl's Folly 1917<p>

Tanya's POV

It was a short run from where we parked the car to where the woods opened up to the little white house. Even in June, Forks was cold for humans, so we made sure to pack warm blankets and pillows for our own little human. Today was the same as all the rest in forgotten town-if you could call Forks a town-damp from recent rain, cold, and overcast. At least it wasn't raining; rain would make a camp-out impossible. Under normal circumstances, my sister and I wouldn't set foot in Forks-it was dated, with very little to entertain, but as it so happened we had a friend here.

When we arrived at the edge of the forest where the trees divided the Sheriff's back yard and the wilderness, we stopped. Charlie was giving instructions to Shelly Cope, the babysitter, and he sounded about as nervous as a mother hen away from her chicks.

"Shelly, please keep an eye on her at all times. I don't want Bella going outside today at all."

"Of course, both eyes, Charlie. We'll have fun in here, won't we darling - just us girls."

From inside the house, Bella sighed and her cat hissed.

"Damn cat, get off me. Sorry, Bells, but after last night, I don't feel comfortable with you playing outside. It's not safe."

Alice's warning from last September rang in my ears as the Sheriff spoke. The flash of panic in her eyes then came back in a rush and spread through my entire body. Concern pooled in Kate's golden eyes as she looked from me to Irina. The fear in the sheriff's normally calm and monotone voice put us on alert. All three of us became aware of the scent at the same time; it was faint, overpowered by the scent of wet dog and washed away by the night's rain, but it was there.

Vampires-three, possibly four.

"What does this mean, Tanya?" Kate whispered.

"I don't know."

Bella peaked out the kitchen window and right at me. I could feel her, almost as if she pinned me to the ground-it was a feeling I'd never get used to. It was so different from Edward's gift. "But Charlie-"

"Don't even think about arguing with me; I'm not changing my mind. You can call Angela to see if she wants to come over, but you two play inside the house, do you hear me?"

She responded with an obedient "Yes, Charlie," but I knew she wouldn't be staying inside for long. The sheriff left-after reminding the babysitter about the rules and the phone numbers he could be reached at and that Bella liked _grape_ jelly, not strawberry. From all his rambling, it almost seemed as if he didn't want to leave-as if he was afraid to leave.

After the door slammed shut, the creak of sofa springs and a click of the remote followed by the obnoxiously fake tittering laughter of some witless talkshow emerged from the little house. Day time television was atrocious.

Kate leaned back against one of the trees and glowered at the back door, picking little branches off a thick bough and snapping them in half. "Charlie should really hire someone else to watch the kid. All this Shelly woman does is sit on the couch and watch _Days of Our Lives_ before falling asleep. She forgets to feed Bella sometimes...it's a good thing the kid knows how to make her own PB&J. Can't imagine_ Shelly_ would stand much of a chance against whoever was prowling around here last night."

"I don't like this. Why would they be hanging around here? She doesn't smell like food.

What do we do now?" Irina asked, her eyes flitting around. "The Cope woman is pretty dim, but I'm sure she'd notice if we hung out in the Bella's room all day...it's too small for all four of us."

"Bella knows we're here. Let's just wait."

We waited for a while with Kate's impatience and the pile of broken branches growing by the second. Just as Shelly's sawing snores began to tear through the forest, the black cat ran out the back door, closely followed by Bella. She was dressed warmly in a jacket as blue as the car's eyes. She had grown in the months since we saw her; she was taller-all elbow and knees. Her hair was longer, and the sadness in her deep brown eyes was almost gone.

"Ms. Cope is sleeping," she told us as soon as she came through the line of trees, smiling mischievously as if she had something to do with the woman dozing off. Buttoning her lips, she tried to contain her grin, but failed. "Charlie won't be home for hours, and she won't bug us."

Kate bent down and pinched her cheeks playfully, "What did you do, Isabella?"

The girl shrugged her shoulders innocently, "Nothing."

I doubted it, but putting one nosey, meddlesome woman to sleep was harmless.

"Yup, harmless. Besides...I don't need a babysitter."

"Of course you don't." Irina gave her a hug, took her hand, and started off towards the clearing where we had all met for the first time.  
>It was months ago that Alice had asked us to come and check on Bella. She hadn't given us too many details, but alluded to her importance-to both our families and Carlisle. When we had agreed to swing by, never did we think we would find such an intriguing little girl or that we would have such a difficult time leaving her. She was sweet and lonely, and seemed to stick out in this tiny town. We loved her and had felt a kinship with the small, odd child almost instantly-and every few weeks, we came back to play and talk with her. It was almost impossible to stay away.<p>

"Bella," I started, catching up with them, twigs crunching beneath my boots. "Why doesn't Charlie want you playing outside?"

"He saw red eyes out here last night. I heard them whispering. They...they knew my name. They were calling me."

Irina and Kate looked back at me, but said nothing, more than likely to avoid scaring Bella. She saw the look and read the fear in their eyes, but made no comment.

Irina swung her hand as they walked over the uneven forest floor, attempting to appear calm and relaxed. "How did Charlie get them to leave?"

She shrugged her shoulders, her words white puffs in the air. "He didn't; they weren't scared of his gun like most people. The wolves chased them away. They were howling all night."

"Wolves?" My sisters and I asked in unison. The Quileutes? This was not good.

"Yup, wolves...big ones. Billy hates me, but he cares about Charlie, so the pack protects him. Charlie doesn't think it's safe for me to be out here, what with the red eyes and the giant wolves. He doesn't know about the wolf-men-about Billy. It is safe, right?"

I smiled and smoothed a hand down her wavy brown hair. "You're safe with us, honey."  
>She nodded and ran off toward the bright green tent in the distance, her cat running alongside her like a black shadow. I moved to follow her, when Kate's hand clamped down on my arm.<p>

"They knew her name," Kate growled, low and threatening.

"I don't like this-first vampires, then the wolves...they have no love for her; you heard it yourself. Tanya, we should tell Alice."

"Shut up, both of you. She can hear us. If there was any danger, Alice would have seen it and she would have told us. Alice sees everything."

"Even the all-knowing imp can make mistakes...the kid is different."

"Alice and Edward brought her here; she is safe here. They know where she is, and Alice watches for trouble at all times. She would have seen any danger. For now, let's just put this out of our minds and spend a normal day with Bella. That's why we're here, right?"

Both my sisters nodded-Kate more reluctantly than Irina.

We passed the day in the tent, coloring and reading stories, sometimes making up our own when the written word became too predictable. While she colored, Irina braided her hair-a Russian braid that started in the front and curled around her head like a crown and fell like a waterfall of wavy brown hair over one shoulder.

The cat walked around Isabella like a tiny protector, hissing at us when we got in the way. He wasn't afraid of us as most animals were, only irritated that he had to share his girl with the likes of us. His blue eyes were fierce as he clawed at Irina's brightly patterned leggings.

"Carlisle, that's not nice," Bella scolded when she saw the rip in the fabric, and we all did our best to keep a serious face. The cat lifted one paw and began licking it, nonplussed, as if to say he couldn't give a crap about what was-or wasn't-nice.  
>"Sorry, Irina, he doesn't like a lot of people. Carlisle scratches Charlie all the time."<p>

I wasn't too sure the real Carlisle would like having a cat named after him, and by the looks on Kate and Irina's faces, they found it hilarious.

"It's okay, he didn't hurt me."

"Who knew that little devil would get so attached to you, Bella?"

The girl's eyes met ours, completely serious. "Carlisle is my best friend. I love him."

Kate slanted her eyes at me. One didn't need to read minds to know what my sister was thinking. _Which Carlisle, the cat or his namesake?_

From the new light in the girl's eyes, I knew she had heard Carlisle's name in our thoughts-possibly even gotten a good glimpse at him, but she asked nothing. She knew not to ask, as all her past efforts to wring information from us had been fruitless. I didn't think for a second that she had given up; behind her quiet exterior was the mind of a plotter, waiting for one of us to slip up.

My bets were on Irina.

Around noon, we broke out the peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches and milk we had packed for her, and while she ate, we asked her about school and her friends and whether or not she was excited to turn nine. It seemed like a big deal to human children, growing up.

Bella was different.

She had good friends in both Angela Weber, the bespeckled girl who befriended her last year, and Mike Newton, and though I suspected that kids still bothered her, she didn't seem too fussed with it. Jessica, Bella told us with a smile, hadn't talked to her since the day she broke her arm last year and never did anything to physically harm her. She didn't say much about the teachers or school in general, just a few tidbits here and there about the things she'd learned, but I could imagine it being difficult for her. Too many thoughts and emotions all confined to one building...even Edward and Jasper had difficulties with it, and they had decades of practice.

"Is Charlie planning something for your ninth birthday? Kids like parties, right? With cake and balloons and..." Kate searched for something else children liked; we were so out of touch with those sort of things. "Presents! Everyone loves presents."

"I'm not supposed to know he's planning one." She stopped coloring and looked outside the tent, focusing on the huge moss covered trunk. She looked...pensive.

"What's wrong, honey?" Irina asked, laying down where the kid was sitting, cross legged.

"Sometimes...I forget to miss them." Her shoulders sagged, like the weight of her confession was just too much.

Kate nudged her softly. "Your parents?"

"Charlie, he takes good care of me...takes me places and makes me feel special. Even if he's not my dad, I love..." She trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. "Sometimes I forget to miss them, and I'm scared I'll forget them. Do...do you know what I mean?"

All three of us nodded, understanding her completely. Our own mother-or creator, depending on which side of the fence you stood on-was gone, and we missed her every day. We loved Carmen and Eleazar; they were family, but at first, that fear of being happy with and loving someone else was overwhelming.

"I feel guilty sometimes...when I'm happy...like I shouldn't be because they're not with me. Charlie notices, and then he feels bad because I miss them, but how do I tell him that he makes me forget to be sad?" She sighed, rolling the crayon between her fingers. "It's all so confusing."

"Welcome to life, kid." Irina laughed humorlessly.

I moved closer and grabbed her hand. "You don't need to be sad in order to remember your family, Bella. They wouldn't want you to be miserable. Part of moving on is putting away the sadness and finding memories that make you smile, not cry. Missing them doesn't diminish what you feel for Charlie, darling," I told her. "Or vice versa. Loving Charlie doesn't mean you love your parents and brothers any less."

Because I knew she could hear me, I showed her how we had healed, how Carmen and Eleazar helped us. _Let yourself be happy, honey_, _it's okay to be happy_.

Bella nodded; she was young and grief wasn't an easy thing to handle, but already I felt her guilt lessen.

Kate nudged her again. "Trust me, kiddo, Charlie doesn't feel bad because you miss them, he feels bad because they were taken from you. He's a parent now-what hurts you hurts him."

"He was so scared last night, not for himself, but for me. He slept in my room." Carlisle climbed into her lap, purring loudly, sensing that she needed him. They cuddled for a bit, the black cat's fur dark against her pale cheeks. When she spoke again, her words were soft. "I wish you guys could come to my party. I'd love for you guys to meet Charlie." A wide smile spread across her face. "Could you try?"

There was a long pause, neither one of my sister knew how to answer her, how to tell her that it wasn't exactly wise to commingle with humans any more than necessary. She understood and assured us that it was fine, but her smile dimmed nonetheless.

To lighten the mood, Kate suggested a game of hide and seek, though it was slightly pointless because Isabella could feel and hear us thinking, and we could smell her from a mile away. Regardless, Bella pulled on her boots from the corner where she had kicked them off and ran outside to hide, but not before tagging me. I had never seen her so animated.

"You're it! Count to a million and no peeking!"

Irina's laughter rang through the trees, mixing with Isabella's as she took off.

"Yeah, no peeking, Tanya," Kate reminded me as she stepped out into the cold air.

All three of them were giggling, giddy like school children. Bella kept shushing them, but that only made the giggling worse. It was uncontrollable, even I was giggling in the tent.

I counted to million, using vampire speed, "999,998...999,999...1,000,000! Ready or not, here I come!"

The moment I stepped outside, I closed my eyes and let my senses take over. I could hear the birds and every little insect, smell the trees and wet earth, including the scents of those vampires and dogs before us. Kate's natural spicy perfume and Irina's exotic blend of sandalwood and roses lingered in the air like bread crumbs, but nowhere could I hear or smell Bella. Kate wasn't too far away and Irina was a little further out-I could pinpoint where they choose to hide.

Bounding over the huge moss covered trunk, I ran in the direction where Kate was hiding. Up in a tree, behind a bent and heavy bough, I found Kate crouched low-like a jungle cat. She was laughing so hard; a human could have found her, if they had the sense to look that high up.

"Found you!" I shouted, catching her leg.

"Damn it!" she screamed as she fell to the ground, landing on her toes without a sound.  
>Next, I found Irina wedged between a thick trunk and a boulder. She tried to run, but I was faster.<p>

"You didn't need to tackle me!" Irina laughed, pulling leaves from her wild dark hair.

"You ran," I told her, picking leaves out of my hair as well. Again, I closed my eyes and searched for Bella, for her wet heartbeat and the sweet scent of honeysuckle and rain, but found nothing-only silence. I couldn't even hear her breathing.

It was as if she was gone. The thought sat heavy and sickening in my stomach."Bella!" I called as I retraced my steps back to the tent.

_Crap, what if something happened to her?_ Was this what mothers felt when they lost their brats at the supermarket? If my heart was still beating, I was sure it would have given out from sheer fright. "Bella!"

Kate and Irina were right behind me, searching with the same frantic speed that I was. "Where is she?" Irina asked, pulling aside leaves and branches as close to tears as she would ever get.

Kate inhaled deeply, "I don't smell her at all...how strange."

"Bella, please come out...now."

Everything was eerily quiet. The wild green bush to my right rustled, and Bella stepped out, braid half undone, wide-eyed and face pale. I let out an unnecessary breath of relief and went to hug her, but stopped suddenly. Something was...off.

The cat was at her feet, walking between her boots in a serpentine pattern. Usually, we could hear her heart beating softly, hear the rush of blood in her veins and the quiet breaths she took. Her unique scent was always there to remind us that although she looked like the rest of them, she was anything but ordinary.

But as she stood inches away from my sisters and I, it was as if she wasn't there at all. My senses were cut off, and I didn't like it. "Bella...can you hear us?"

She nodded, and asked if we could hear her.

"We can hear you talking, but..."

"It's like there's some sort of shield around you," Kate finished, inching closer and closer to Bella.

"My mom taught me when I was little...sort of. I don't know...I can't bring it back down."  
>If I had the ability to cry, I would have been in tears, but her eyes only widened as she shifted from side to side, looking at a wall we could neither see or feel. A wave of panic rolled off her and spread like fog. "It's stuck."<p>

"Stay calm, it's going to be okay," Kate reassured her.

Irina was nervous. "What are you going to do, Kate?"

"Kate, we don't know anything about this...shield." I whispered, looking from her to where Bella stood, anxiously. "What if you get hurt? What if she gets hurt?"

Kate ignored us and continued to watch Bella, focusing all her attention on her.

A look passed between them, silent like a conversation. Bella nodded once, and I knew what Kate was going to do. Before I could say anything or stop my sister, Kate wrapped her arms around Bella's shoulders. The air rippled and crackled like a live wire as Kate let a surge of electricity pass from her to Isabella.

Like a flip of a switch, I could hear her heart-a touch too fast-but it was there, along with everything else. Her and Kate dissolved in a fit of laughter, each holding on to the other as tightly as possible.

"You scared us," Irina breathed, kneeling down to wrap her arms around both of them.

"Sorry."

I joined them, hugging my sisters and dropping a kiss on Bella's head.

Bella pulled away slightly, her complexion pink from the cold of our wintery embrace or the shock Kate gave her, I didn't know. "That was so cool...do you think you could teach me to do that?"

Kate rolled her eyes. "How about we save that for the next time? I think we've had enough excitement for one day."

"Okay, next time," she agreed, her grin as wide as a Cheshire cat's.

The sky had darkened considerably, storm clouds huddling together, and rain was in the air. Bella and Carlisle the cat made it inside and up the stairs just as Charlie was driving up. We listened while Ms. Cope gave a false report of their day, and left after Charlie thanked, paid, and informed her that he wouldn't need her services tomorrow.

Charlie called Bella down for pizza, and if he noticed anything amiss, he didn't mention it, but he did stare out the kitchen window for a long time, searching the trees for blood red eyes or feral yellow ones, I imagined. We left when they sat down to eat, packed up the tent, and ran back to the car.

xXXx

On the ferry from Washington to Victoria, we huddled around a table with cups of hot coffee in our hands to lend some truth to the illusion. It was crowded-day trippers and families on summer excursions filled the air with the scent of their blood and the warmth of their bodies. My throat burned, but I ignored it.

"I hate Ferries," Kate muttered. "They're so slow."

Irina whispered, "We couldn't very well swim home, how would that look?"

"I can walk faster than this thing."

Behind me the door opened, letting in a gust of cold sea air and a combination of scents that-like Bella's-failed to make my mouth water. I turned slowly, curious, peaking at the newcomers over my shoulder. A woman with dark, wild hair and a beautiful pale face, dressed in thick knit sweater and leather knee high boots, ushered three girls to the last available booth. Each girl was pale with dark hair and dressed much like the woman-_hippie chic_. Again, the door opened, and this time, venom pooled in my mouth. A handsome man, tall and strong with dark hair and a luscious beard walked towards the little family, smiling.

"He looks delicious," Kate put in, following my gaze hungrily, "but don't get your hopes up. He's married, and I'm guessing those are his brats. They got busy fast. Men with baggage are no fun to play with-they always feel guilty afterwards."

From where we sat, I could hear them all chatting about a festival they were going to. Something about them reminded me of Bella. The girls and the woman looked like her, smelled like her-human enough, but not quite. They stuck out-like us.

I shook my head. "No, they aren't his." The man...he wasn't one of them. "They don't smell like anyone on this dinky boat."

I heard Kate inhale and exhale through her nose. "No venom...nothing. How interesting."

"Stop staring," Irina said between clenched teeth. "You're going to draw attention to us."

It was too late, we already had. The woman was watching us as her family continued to laugh and joke. Her eyes were brown and deep, and when they locked on mine, I felt her pinning me to my seat, peering through my thoughts and memories, flipping through them one by one, century by century. I heard her in my head whispering Bella's name. Her grip was powerful, almost painful.

_Bella, my little Bella. Where are you? _

Trees blurred in ribbons of green; the faded and peeling "Welcome to Forks" sign flashed before my eyes. I was sure she saw it.

The overhead speaker announcing that we had made it to Victoria broke her concentration. She let go of me, but her eyes never left mine as she and her family walked outside to their car, a blue volkswagen bus. Irina, Kate, and I walked to our car-my sisters oblivious as to what had just happened to me. I had the oddest sensation as I buckled my seatbelt, like I couldn't breathe. I hadn't needed to breathe in ages, but somehow I needed it now. Their car was behind ours, and I could feel her eyes on the back of my head.

"Tanya, what the hell is wrong with you? You're shaking," Kate asked from the passenger seat.

I shook my head, mentally willing myself to forget the encounter, the feeling of her in my head, the echo of her voice. Cars honked behind us, impatient and pissed. "Nothing. Let's go home."

xXXx

"I can't wait to see how Bella is getting along with the zapping. She picked it up like a natural," Kate beamed, pushing aside a branch heavy with bright green leaves.

We had come back for Bella's birthday-with gifts from both the Cullens and us. That time, she went on and on about the party and how Charlie had taken her to see the totem poles in Sitka.

As promised, Kate taught Bella her electrifying little trick. I never thought she'd actually learn-vampiric gifts weren't exactly transferable, and they sure as hell weren't things to be taught in an afternoon, but it would seem that whatever Bella was, adaptable was one of their many traits. The first time, she knocked Kate on her ass-the second time, she shattered a tree branch.  
>During that visit, I observed the girl with new eyes. Her strength forced me to realize that she was much more than just a little girl we befriended and more than a little different. That woman on the ferry had heard me, controlled me, gotten what she wanted from me, and there was nothing I could have done to stop her. Bella could grow up to be so much more, and frankly, I was a little wary of what she could become.<p>

_Was it possible that there were more of her kind? _

"God, how is it possible that we haven't seen her since September?"

"Time flies, Irina."

It certainly did. A month shy of a year had passed since we had laid eyes on her, and I could only imagine the changes we'd find in our little human. They grew so fast, and soon, she'd be ten.

"Ugh...why does it always smell like wet dog around here?" Kate complained, wrinkling her nose.

"That, my dear sister, is the scent of wolves...disgusting. Don't know how our cousins tolerated the smell when they lived here."

Behind me, they joked about the dogs. I couldn't join in-as horrid as they smelled, they kept Bella safe, if only because she lived with Charlie. I didn't care about their reasons, reasoning with them was pointless, but the only thing they hated more than Bella were vampires.

"Stop," I whispered. The scent of vampire was thick on the ground and trees. Irina growled, smelling it as well, crouching low, ready to strike.

Kate fisted her hands at her side, and the air rippled with a current of electricity. "The scent is a day or two old...but there were five or six of them."

Alert, we walked closer to the house, the scent growing stronger the closer we got. When we reached the line of trees, my worse fear was confirmed. The smell was coming from inside the house.

"I don't hear or smell her," Irina said, barely keeping her anger in check.

"Maybe she got scared and put the shield up. Maybe it's stuck again. We have to check on her, what if she's inside?"

The house was silent and dark, nothing moved inside-not Charlie, not Bella, not even Carlisle the cat. Without a word, I crept past the trees and into the Sheriff's back yard, my sisters trailing behind silently. The lock on the back door was broken, and the door swung open with a ominous creak.

One by one, we stepped inside the house, not one of us willing to admit the perhaps we were too late. The kitchen was trashed, yellow cabinets hung from their hinges, and cereal crunched under our boots. Kate pushed past me and took the stairs two at a time, vibrating and pulsating. Irina and I followed, noting the framed photos of Bella and Charlie askew on the wall.

Kate stood inside the room we assumed was Bella's, looking around puzzled with venom in her golden eyes. The room was blue and soft, and her bed looked like the perfect place for a little girl to dream, but she hadn't been here in months. It looked empty. The closet held only hangers, and her unique scent was being suffocated by the smell of vampire and wolf alike.

"What the fuck happened here?" Kate raged.

"I don't smell blood...maybe her and Charlie left before all this," Irina gestured around the room, "happened."

"No," I shook my head. "Charlie's scent is much stronger. He was here, not more than two days ago. She was gone long before he left, and thankfully before this happened."

Kate sank to the floor, her shoulders hunched forward. "She's gone, Tanya. Why didn't Alice say something!"

_She's gone,_ I thought sadly. "I don't know."

Irina sat on the bed and looked out the window-the same window I imagined Bella must have looked out of. "She's gone...how? We waited too long to visit. We should have come sooner."

"We didn't even get to say goodbye." If I didn't know better, I would have thought Kate was crying.

I went over to where Kate sat and wrapped my arms around my sister. I felt a prickle of her gift run along my skin, but it died off slowly, her sadness killing the anger, and dousing the rage. Irina came over wrapped her arms around both of us. We didn't speak; we all knew that it was unlikely that we could comfort each other with mere words, and even more unlikely that we would see Bella again.

She was gone.

As we sat huddled around Kate, we became aware of a low growl, first one then another, then another and another, until it seemed that the whole house shook with the rabid growling. One inhale told us more than the growls themselves.

Wolves.

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><p><strong>AN: Hope you enjoyed that chapter. The next two chapters are already written and waiting to be beta-ed.**

**XX  
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**Autumn  
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	8. Through the Looking-Glass

**A/N: Yay! I updated! I know it's been ages. I'd like to thank my wonderful beta, Nachos4Children, she is meticulous and just all around wonderful! This chapter picks up right after the last one...Enjoy!  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I own the plot and some of these characters. SM owns the rest.**

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><p>CPOV<p>

"But what if…"-Flirting with Fate 1916

Young Molly winced as the needle pierced the skin at her knee - despite the shot I gave her to numb the area - but refused to look away. Her older brother was with her, holding her hand and looking contrite. They had been climbing the tree in their backyard when Molly had slipped, her knee catching a broken branch. The gash required twenty two stitches, ten on the inside and twelve on the outside, and Molly was proud of every one.

"I can't even remember how many times I've stitched you up," I lied, smiling at the freckle-faced ten-year-old in bright green from head to toe. She grinned and began recounting all her stitches, ticking them off on her fingers as her brother grimaced, remembering.

"And we can't forget the broken bones, Dr. Cullen; you've slapped a cast on all of them!" Her eyes lit up with pride.

Her parents often joked that we had a chart at the nurses' station ready in the event that she came into the ER, which she did often, with a broken limb, cut and/or a combination of both. She was adventurous, always exploring, and seldom did she listen to my requests for her to be more careful. Molly was a rare child, collecting bruises, scars, and x-rays where most kids collected trading cards. I often wondered if, given the chance, Isabella would have been the same way.

"Do you live at the hospital? You're always here!" Molly asked suddenly, interrupting her inventory of broken bones.

"I could ask you the same thing." Smiling softly, I clipped the excess thread; I had been spending most of my time at the hospital. "I do not live here, Molly, though it may seem that way."

"Doesn't your wife get mad at you 'cause you're always here?" Her brother scolded her and apologized to me, but I waved him off, she meant no harm. Her curiosity was endearing. When I told her I didn't have one, she frowned, inspecting my stitches. "Oh, that's kinda sad. Don't ya want a girlfriend? Don't ya get lonely?"

I busied myself, swiping her knee with betadine, avoiding the question. She was a child, and the loneliness of this life was not something I could easily put into words. As I placed the bandage over her newly stitched knee, I explained the aftercare to Brandon and Molly both, but it was just out of procedure. They were more than experienced with aftercare.

"Do try to be safer, Molly," I requested, producing a bright red lollypop from my coat pocket.

She looked up at me and smiled, and for a moment, she was a different girl, one with fathomless brown eyes and long dark hair. I might have been asking her to be safe, to be careful, however futile the request was.

"I can't make any promises, Dr. Cullen," she said, taking the sweet and hopping off the table. "There's too much world to see to bother with being safe."

As she left, she turned around to look at me, compassion in her eyes and sad smile on her face. It struck me then that children saw far more than we gave them credit for. Isabella had known so much, she saw so much.

Normally, I tried not to think of her at work, but it was impossible today, of all days. ER had been empty, save for a few children with minor injuries - normal for the summer months - and each one was difficult for me. I schooled my expressions, my voice and actions, but behind the mask I was breaking. Now, I was inclined to believe I hadn't fooled them at all. David had similar deep brown eyes, Jenny was wise for her age, much like Isabella had been, and Molly, she had the fire and curiosity I saw in the little girl whose life had been cut short four years ago. It seemed impossible to me that it had been so long. Time was different to us; when faced with eternity, four years were inconsequential, but I felt each hour of those agonizing years.

It was midday when I left the hospital, but heavy clouds hid the sun, casting a gray gloom over the road and the sleepy town of Herring Cove. I drove in silence most of the way, and when I reached the car's limits, I climbed out and ran. When I arrived, the sun was just starting to sink in the sky. I took a deep breath—an innocuous action that never ceased to calm me—and walked into the only place I felt truly close to her.

The others had wanted to move after that night, but I couldn't leave, she had already been ripped from the world and this secret place was all I had. The waning sun cast the clearing in shades of golden yellows and luminous greens. Nature had reclaimed the space; flowers grew on the remnants of her house, bright and wild, curling themselves around beams and half-crumbled window frames. Her mother's garden was overgrown, spilling over the white fence built to contain it and filled the warm summer air with the scent of herbs and plants. The forest floor was blooming with bluebells and tiny white buds like the fairy kingdom in all her stories. She had told me once that bluebells were magical, and that fairies lived in them. If I tried, I could imagine her here among them, safe and innocent, with her family, as if nothing had ever happened to them, to her. Sitting on a nearby tree stump, one I thought Isabella must have played on, I took out a book, Alice in Wonderland, and began reading.

Humans worked past grief. Aided by time, they healed, but it was different for us. Grief lingered as fresh and miserable and dark as the first day for eternity. My grief never flagged, nor would it, but sat heavy on my chest, darkening even the brightest of days.

Venom pooled in my eyes as I thought of what she endured in her final moments, blurring the words in front of me. Had I been capable of real tears, they would have filled an ocean. In the recesses of my silent heart there was a gaping hole where she had lived, nothing could fill the chasm of pain, not my family or my work. Four years ago this day, she was taken from me, and though I knew she could not hear me, I read to her as I had so many times before.

When the shadows vanished and forest turned black, I left, plagued by my last moments with her. During the day, this place was solace, but at night, it became tortuous. It all came back, and I had no desire to relive the greatest regret of my life.

xXXx

It was clear from the raised voices and shouting that something had transpired while I was away. Ours was, for the most part, a peaceful house-though more subdued these past four years. Alice and Jasper had left to travel for a while, as had Rosalie and Emmett, leaving only Edward, Esme, and I in that grand house, and even they escaped the house from time to time. I had had a family for so long I had forgotten how empty a home feels devoid of sound, but as I strolled across the gravel I realized with a smile, that the house was full. Alice, Jasper, Rose, and Emmett had returned and among the voices of my family, were the ones of our cousins, the Denali's. Curiosity piqued, I hurried my pace to see what was important enough to bring everyone to our house so unexpectedly.

I came upon them in the living room, waging a war of words. Esme's perfectly styled room was a minefield; bombs laying in wait for a careless word or rebuttal. On one side, near the bookshelves, Edward, Alice, Tanya, Irina, and Kate stood, yelling over each other as Eleazar and Rose shouted from the other side, Eleazar in rapid lisping Spanish and Rosalie in a caustic tone. Emmett stood behind her, silent as a statute, hands thrust into his pockets, his expression thoughtful, but not angry. Esme and Carmen sat on the settee, watching the words fly, adding to them every so often. Esme's eyes lingered on Edward, concerned and questioning, before sliding over to Rose. Jasper was the only one missing from the room, and I assumed it was due to the atmosphere.

"You had no right!" Eleazar thundered, pointing an accusatory finger at Edward. "You had no business sending them to Forks. What if the wolves—"

"We never crossed over the treaty line, we're not stupid!" Kate argued, and Irina nodded solemnly.

"We were careful every time, not even Charlie knew when we were there. She promised us that she wouldn't tell a soul. There was no way—."

"Tanya, they can smell us! The child wouldn't have had to say a word, even if she kept her promise, which I doubt. Children talk—

Kate murmured with a roll of her amber eyes, "She barely talks."

"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME! Our scent would have lingered on her everywhere she went-to school, to that decrepit diner and the police station. The whole town would have smelled like us! No wonder they attacked you!"

They fell silent, abashed, and Alice cleared her throat. "I had a vision some time ago that vampires were roaming around in the area, and I got concerned. We did not _send_ anyone; Edward and I simply asked if they could check on the girl, since we couldn't. We never intended anything like this to happen. I didn't see this."

"Nor did we think they'd continue to go back so often," Edward snapped.

Tanya's eyes tightened with anger. "We were curious, anyone would be. Have you ever met anyone like her? And…she was lonely. You have no right to judge us; you would have done the same thing!"

Edward rounded on her. "She isn't meant to know us yet! You think Alice and I didn't have a hard time leaving her? I told you: in and out, watch, and report back, not braid her fucking hair and stay for tea! And certainty not teach the girl how to zap things, Kate!"

Kate growled,"You weren't there, Edward. You dropped her off in that podunk town with a shut-in Sheriff and zero friends. _We_ were her friends."

"_We_ left her where she would be the safest." Alice's words were soft, but I could see the effort it took her to make them so.

"We hadn't seen her in so long…kids grow up so fast. We missed her." Eleazar waved one hand in the air dismissively and Irina growled in displeasure.

"We had no idea she would be gone this time-you might have warned us. We smelled others and thought something happened to her so we…explored," Tanya explained.

"You went into the Sheriff's house. Into her room," Edward said, biting off each word.

"But why would you risk it, for what purpose? We do not involve ourselves in their lives any more than necessary, but checking on this human, watching her, spending so much time with her, keeping her safe...it seems to me that she is important. Who is this girl?" Carmen looked to each of her girls for answers, when given none she shook her head. "I don't like this, no me gusta. All this secrecy between families makes no sense. This is not the way we do things. Who is she and when_ is _she meant to know us?"

It was obvious from the way Alice and Edward looked at each other that they were hiding something from all of us.

Rose glared at Alice. "Let's remember what happened the last time we kept secrets, shall we?"

Esme flinched, and Edward went to her, whispering words of consolation in her ear. A wave of sadness and anguish rolled through the faces of my family at Rose's words. Emmett laid a consoling hand on her shoulder. Life moved on, we went back to doing the things we did before that horrific night in the woods of Alaska, but each of us was changed. Looking at their faces now, I realized how much it had affected them.

"That is beside the point; keep your secrets if you must. What angers me is the disregard for safety! Carlisle has been the only one able to make peace with them-the treaty is clear, and in one afternoon, you almost destroyed everything he built. They are volatile in the best of times; you could have been killed if not for Edward! Por Dios, how can you all be so careless?"

Having heard enough, I cleared my throat, and stepped into the room. "I would like to know that as well."

Heads snapped to where I stood, noticing me for the first time, their arguments silenced. Edward attempted a smile. Alice's eyes glazed over, and the other three looked down at the floor, guilty, feigning a fascination in the pattern on the rug. Clearly, something much bigger was going on than a wolf attack and a child in Forks. In the moment of peace, Jasper slipped in from the garden, his features smooth, despite the tension in the room.

"No one wants to explain what is going on." Was another child in danger? They all looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

"Not exactly and not another child, Carlisle…" Edward began, his voice low and full of hesitation. "The same one."

The silence deepened, dragged down by those three words. I looked at him incredulously. "No."

She is dead, Edward.

"She isn't, Carlisle."

"No, you saw...we all did." This was too much, not today.

"You assumed that she was," Alice cut in, coming to stand in front of me. "Carlisle, please, she's alive, she has been these past four years-"

"NO!" I roared-anger, despair, grief, and confusion overcoming centuries of control. "Do not lie to me! Isabella is dead."

The last words were barely audible, falling into the silence like a stone. Four years, and I had yet to say those words. Eleven pairs of eyes were on me; no one moved or spoke. She wasn't alive, and it was cruel that they would tell me such a thing.

She was gone.

I felt the effects of Jasper's gift settle over me, and I sat down in the nearest chair, unable to stand under the pressure. The faces I knew and loved watched with pity as I struggled for control. For decades I prided myself on my control, and now it was abandoning me. I covered my face with my hands, sinking further into the endless depression.

"She's dead…if she wasn't, I'd know it. We were connected - her and I. It sounds absurd, but I knew it the moment the connection broke. She is dead." I looked up then, guilty, venom that would never fall, pooling in my eyes. "And I did nothing to stop it."

"Show him, Alice."

xXXx

Alice was talking, explaining the reason for her travels and the things she learned. Beside her, Jasper stood, his habitually skeptical face open and nodding along with his wife's words. Most of us had walked the world for too long to disregard what she was saying as nonsense. We knew that the world was old, full of mystery and though some things had vanished completely, other things - things even older than us - had survived. Still, Alice was vague and reluctant to elaborate beyond the fact that Isabella was alive.

"All five of you have seen her?" I inquired wearily. "Does she…does she remember me?"

Edward furrowed his brows, staring at Tanya. When he spoke, it was with an apologetic voice. "She doesn't remember you specifically; she remembers your face, how you make her feel but not who you were to her." I nodded slowly, swallowing the pain. Edward hastened to explain. "She hit her head, Carlisle, and some things were lost. We can't explain it all."

"But she asked about you constantly, she was rather eager to know everything there was to know," Irina added, no doubt sensing my disappointment.

"Trust me, Carlisle, everything will make sense," Alice whispered, her eyes pleaded with me, and I found I could not deny her.

It was then that I noticed a large and ornately carved mirror leaned against the fireplace, reflecting not our faces, but a surface of murky green water, undulating softly. Etched in the glass along the rim were inscriptions in many languages from German to symbols I could not place. _Excorio retro velum et videre,_ it read in Latin - _Peel back the veil and see._

I could feel everyone's curiosity heightened along with mine; Emmett sat closest to me and leaned forward on his knees, eager. Esme's hand found its way onto my shoulder, lending strength. The Denali's were sitting on the couch, Eleazar skeptically intent on the mirror while his wife watched Alice. For all we had seen and lived through, this was new.

"What the hell is scrying?" Rose asked, eyeing the mirror.

"It's an ancient practice used for seeing, or divining, the past, present, and or future," Jasper informed her. "All types of surfaces are used, but this," he tipped his head in the direction of the mirror, "is more...effective."

"But _how _will Alice see her?"

"The scryer, in this case Ali, puts himself or herself in a sort of trance and focuses their mind's eye on the person they're looking for. Like Google, but far more mystical."

"Cool." Jasper grinned at Emmett and turned back to his wife.

"Thanks, Jazz. Now, it's not an exact science. A physic connection is needed, the stronger the better, which is why most humans can't do it. Obviously, Jasper, Edward, and I are capable, but I'm thinking Carlisle would be ideal. We'll try that later, once the shock has worn off. I've been practicing. It works." Alice sat down and closed her eyes; in one hand she held a small blue stone, and took deep breaths.

I had never seen Alice so still.

At first, nothing happened, and then the mirror shimmered-rippled as if a hand had just dipped into water. The ripples flowed over the sides, and when the water calmed, it was no longer murky or green but an image that filled the entire surface.

I stared at the mirror, hardly believing my eyes.

"Dios mio!" Carman whispered, coming closer.

A thin whine poured into the room, deep and haunting, swelling with vibrancy and vigor of the man, dark and bearded, playing it. He stood tall, violin at his chin and a smile crinkling his dark eyes. In the center of what I could only describe as a large Moroccan tent, a woman danced, tall and thin, her black hair swaying with her body as four young girls shared the grassy dance floor.

Candles and lanterns lit the space, hanging from the billowing ceiling and standing on iron candelabrums, painting them all in a soft orange glow. Even the fire danced. The woman was fair and lovely with wide dark eyes, a small nose, and graceful mouth with swirling tattoos on her wrists and ankles. Her features appeared in each of the girls, so a relative she must be, but not their mother-she was too young to have such a brood. The girls were separated by a year or two, the oldest, a tall and curly haired girl, being around twelve or thirteen. Each was as fair as the woman, with eyes that overwhelmed their pretty young faces, and crowns of flowers woven into their long hair, but it was the youngest that caught my attention and made everything else seem superfluous. Her face was flushed and unharmed as she swayed with the rise and fall of the man's violin, clutching a handsome black cat to her chest.

Like a phantom, Isabella stood barefoot amidst her dancing cousins, crowned and smiling as I had not seen in many years and above all things...alive.

"How?" Even to my own ears my voice sounded far away.

Alice opened her eyes, and I caught a gleam of admiration in them. "She defended herself."

Edward nodded absentmindedly, astonished at what was playing before his eyes, swallowing some emotion I could not name.

"Which one is she?" Emmett asked, leaning in further.

"The one with the cat," one of the three Denali girls answered fondly.

Esme's hand twitched on my shoulder. "She's… Oh, Carlisle, she's beautiful and so happy."

"How old is she?" Rose's voice was thick. "Nine…or ten…I can't even remember what it felt like to be so young."

None of us could remember quite that far back, and I only had the vague sensation of being held close and the smell of violets.

The music softened one string at a time, until, with a low moan, it faded into the night. The man placed the violin on the nearby table and bowed dramatically for his audience, drawing giggles from the girls.

"Niky, that was...breathtaking! Okay, my darling girls," the woman started, clapping her hands, her voice throaty and soothing. "One story and then bed. What shall it be?" She sat on the floor, her colorful skirt fluttering, folding her legs under her.

The girls called out names of stories I'd never heard before, coming to sit around the woman. Isabella seemed to withdraw slightly, still a part of the family, but removed and shy. She stroked her cat and watched, but didn't say anything. The man fussed with the fire off and then joined them, sitting behind the woman and wrapping his arms around her.

"The Vicar's Son and the Witch, please, please, Auntie Jo! It's been so long since I've heard that one, and it's my favorite!" the oldest girl pleaded, bouncing on her knees, upsetting the crown of yellow daffodils on her head.

"Witch?" Esme questioned softly, puzzled.

Emmett shushed the conversations that erupted at Esme's words.

"You always ask for that one, Dana!" a girl closer to Isabella's age accused with a roll of her eyes. "Tell us a scary story…the one with the wolves and the moor, or Wailing Witch! Ohh, better Der Großmann! Something really, really scary!"

"I like her," Emmett chuckled.

The other two girls protested hotly, glaring at their younger cousin. Isabella smiled and shared at glace with her cousin that said quite clearly, '_scaredy cats,'_ while her cat batted a wayward strand of hair.

"A scary story is better than a mushy, depressing story like that one!"

"How can you say that, Lila?" the middle child exclaimed, indignant, crossing her arms. "It's romantic!"

"It's boring, Viola!" Lila countered.

"I want to hear The Vicar's Son and the Witch, and since Bella isn't voting…"

"Hey!" she protested, frowning slightly, "Who said I'm not voting? Der Großmann."

The girls began to bicker, the eldest the loudest of them all. "I'm the oldest, so I should decide. The Vicar's son and the Witch."

"You're so annoying, Dana."

"So are you, _Lila_!"

"Enough. No Vicar's son and the Witch," their aunt said finally, firmly ending the bickering. Something in the way her aunt spoke, or perhaps her thoughts, caught Isabella's attention; she stared at her with the most intense look on her face.

Little Lila pumped her fist in the air. "Yes, I win - a scary story! I want Der Großmann! Nik, why don't you tell it - it'll be better if you tell it!"

Their uncle looked uneasy. "Aren't they a bit too young for that story?"

"We've seen worse," their aunt said, more to herself than anyone else.

Isabella put her cat down, letting it wander out of the tent, and laid her head on her cousin's shoulder. The other two huddled together, holding each other's hand. The mood changed, and each girl looked lost in her own thoughts, no longer giddy. They seemed to grow up before our eyes.

Their aunt sighed and nodded her head, sinking further into the man's embrace. "We have indeed. How I wish I could have sheltered you girls from all of the hate and pain in this world…so many people we've loved and lost... Do any of you know how it all started?"

"With grandma Josephina, in Scotland," Dana whispered, eyes downcast.

"Yes, a very long time ago, when the world was a much darker and scarier place, when evil things came out at night and people still looked to us for help. Centuries ago, your grandmother Josephina chose to leave her family to answer the call of a village in need. Her family begged her not to go. Her sisters pleaded with her to not go alone. Her mother feared that some evil would befall her in that lonely place and that without her family she would surely die. Still, Josephina had her mind set, and no one could change it. When the moon was full, as any good witch knows, that is the best time to travel, she set out for that little village."

One word stood out, _'witch.'_ My mind was cast back to a memory long forgotten. The word echoed around me like a curse, shouted as one voice from many.

_Witch_.

My father stood clutching his bible, condemning a woman who stood with her head high, looking directly into his eyes. Her face was blurred, details of it lost, but I felt as I had then, heartsick and ashamed. It vanished quickly, that tiny piece of the man I had been, but I knew now what Isabella was, and why she was so different.

_Witch._

I focused on the mirror, anxious to hear more.

Jo's eyes looked beyond the girls, seeing another time, another place, her voice dropping a pitch. "For a while, all went well. The people were glad to have her and grew to love her as their troubles lessened. The evil that shadowed them was lifted, and the village prospered like never before. Josephina married a young man who fell in love with her, as most men do, the moment she came into his world. They had a daughter, Sara, and lived as cozy and happy as three people could be. Josephina thought that her family's fears were surely misplaced, but not everyone loved the young witch.

"On the outskirts of the village, near The Devil's Forest, as the villagers called it, lived a woman, a pious, gnarled, and twisted thorn of a woman and her husband. For some reason, she hated the very sight of the witch. So deep did her hatred run, that when her husband, the village's kindly old priest, came back one afternoon sick, pallid, and weak she refused to call Josephina. Of course, the witch knew what had happened and fearful for the man's life, rushed to help. She was turned away with nasty words. The sicker he got, the more his wife refused Josephina, her hatred growing.

"One night there was an awful storm, rain and wind lashed the poor village to bits, and in his home, so close to that shadowy hiding place, the old man drew his last breath. Naturally, the old woman was beside herself, for he was all she had. Broken and desperate, she went to Josephina, her husband in tow, and begged her to revive him.

"'Many things we witches can do, from healing the sick, to cursing the wicked, but what is dead, no witch can bring back to life.' Josephina explained this to the old woman, as kindly as possible, as her heart was breaking for the old woman, but she insisted, threatened to turn out the witch and her family if she did not revive her husband. Josephina was firm.

"'I cannot do it, and if I could, I would not, for what would rise would be so foul and evil that not even you would recognize your husband. I'm sorry.'

"Mad with grief, furious and fueled by hate, the old woman vowed, in the witch's home with little Sara asleep in the next room, to see her hanged for what she had done.

"At first, Josephina thought nothing would come of the woman's threats, she was grieving and in pain. But soon she saw that the old woman had meant every word. People are easy to sway, a whisper of doubt and they turn against you. Just as the evil had worked it's magic on the woman, she worked her lies on the naïve villagers.

"'That witch let my husband die, refused to help us. I begged, and she slammed her door on my face,' she said.

"Little by little, the fondness they held for the witch turned to suspicion and animosity. No longer did they trust her or go to her for help. The old woman basked in Josephina's fall from grace, but it was not enough, she vowed to see her hanged, and hanged she would see her. Only one person could aid her, she knew, and regardless of the danger, the old woman ventured into The Devil's Forest.

"You see, before Josephina came to the village, there was a dark force that haunted and hunted them. It stole into the night, rose hell, took children and any unfortunate soul to go into the forest beyond town, and never came out. Some said it was a man, others said it was a demon with soulless red eyes, but whatever he was the old woman went to him then with her plight.

"'I want her to know the pain I have known.'

"He listened. 'A husband for a husband," he promised, though he would take so much more.

"Soon, the same darkness descended on the village, vicious and with a fury Josephina could not calm. Children were found cold and lifeless in the streets, crops burned, sheep slaughtered and drained. Evil touched every life in the small village-every life except Josephina and her family's. People began to wonder, blinded by pain and suffering, why the witch and her family were spared when they were not.

"'She is the mistress of the devil,' they said. 'It is Satan's child she grows in her womb,' they whispered as she passed, her son growing in her belly. 'She is in league with the dark forces,' they accused, forgetting that it was she who had kept them safe, she who lifted the darkness.

"Josephina's husband wanted to leave, run away with their daughter where they would be safe, but she refused to leave to village to fend for itself. When Josephina thought things could get no worse, the final blow fell. Lying in their garden, she found her husband, a strong and kind hearted man, cold and pale. _A husband for a husband_. So heartbroken she was that when they came for her, she didn't fight.

"The day they hung Josephina was a miserable day. Heavy clouds blotted out the sun, turning day into night, but not even the weather could stop the crowd from gathering to watch justice, as they called it. While normally the dark creature hid during the day, this day he walked among the villagers and stood in the cluster of betrayers. Sara, still too young to control the power her mother had passed onto her, watched helplessly, heartbroken and alone, as they looped the rope around Josephina's neck.

"When the rope snapped, taut and swaying, the creature rejoiced in the death of the only person who stood in his way. He and the witch had battled bitterly for the village; Josephina had won, but none of that mattered now. The village was his. What he didn't know was that the daughter was every bit as strong as her mother, and had he been smarter, he would have feared her more.

"Sara was wild and different, gifted where her mother was not. She could hear the thoughts of those around her, a power that had all but vanished from her kind. She listened to the creature's dark thoughts, her anger and thirst for vengeance swelling inside her as she stared at her mother's lifeless body, and the proof of the brother she would never met.

"She flew at him, tore at him with her hands, burning the cold skin where hers touched his. He howled and shrieked like a fiend, his eyes blazing red for all to see. When he was destroyed, Sara stood among the villagers, alone in her grief, and inconsolable. However glad they were to have the demon dead, they feared her more and what she could do should she lose control again. They told her leave and never come back. Without a word, she cut down her mother and went back to her mother's family, thankless.

"The dark creature had won, for nothing could erase of seed of hate and fear that had been planted in them. Since that day, we have been blamed for every misfortune and evil that befalls them, hunted, and killed. Disgraced."

Lila frowned. "Why didn't Josephina turn on them, curse the stupid villagers and leave with her family?"

"Or at least let them suffer on their own," Viola added, visibly upset.

Dana nodded,"They obviously deserved that and more."

"Because then we would be just like them," Isabella answered, her voice small and raw, tucking her knees under chin. The hand that came up to push hair away from her eyes trembled slightly. "She couldn't turn her back on them, as horrible as they were, because it wasn't their fault. The dark man was behind everything, and the villagers were too stupid to see that they were being used."

Their aunt nodded sagely. "Isabella is right. We can't hate them for ignorance, though some hate us, hurt us. We have always been taught to help those in need, it was that calling that sealed Josephina's fate, but it also brought her happiness, her husband, and Sara. However difficult it may be, and I know how hard it is, we must not sink to their level. Draw from our matriarch's example, strive to see the good in them, the things that redeem them." She touched Isabella cheek softly, repeating the loving gesture with her other nieces. "With school around the corner, I feel the need to remind each of you darlings to hold your heads high when they call you names and taunt you. You must be the bigger women, because they don't remember that once they trusted us, once we were on the same side."

Lila shrugged, "I still would have cursed that old lady. What's the use of being the bigger woman if you're dead?"

"Lila," Jo sighed, pinching the girl's cheek. "You remind me of your mom, always so ready for action."

"Or trouble," Nik laughed.

"Good story," Dana said with a yawn. "but I still say The Vicar's Son and the Witch would have been better."

Viola nodded, taking off her red floral crown. "Me too, much more suitable for bedtime!"

"UGH! You guys are killing me! I'm going to bed!" Lila stalked off to where four cots lay in a row, separated from the living space by a gauzy curtain. "Ya commin', Bella?"

"In a minute," Isabella called, getting up to peak outside the tent. Through the flaps, I saw an enormous house, old and Victorian, shadowed against the moon. The other girls kissed and hugged their aunt and uncle, and went to bed whispering to each other. Still, Isabella stayed by the tent opening, peering out into the darkness.

"Carlisle!" she called and I started, having never heard her say my name. "Where the devil are you, Carlisle? It's time for bed!"

The cat came sauntering in after she growled his name for the third time, following closely at her heels as she made her way to her bed. Emmett snickered, and I smiled at the name she chose to give her cat. She may not remember me, but enough of me had lingered in her memories.

"Jo?" she asked after she settled under a familiar green blanket, the cat curled around her head. Curiosity and fear mingled on her face, both were palpable, even through the veil that separated us. "The dark man, there are more like him."

"Yes, some good and some evil, but you have nothing to worry about." She bent over and kissed her niece on the cheek. "You are safe sweet pea and with your family at last. Go to sleep, dream sweetly, and may the moon softly restore you by night."

She nodded and watched her aunt disappear through a curtain with a thoughtful expression. I couldn't fathom what she was thinking, but her eyes were far away, much like her aunt's during the story. A little crease appeared between her eyebrows, suggesting that what she saw wasn't without effort. At length, she sighed, gave up, and pulled the blanket up to her nose, inhaling deeply. Before she could drift off to sleep, someone whispered about the lights. The flames of all the candles and all the lanterns gutted out at once, as if a gust of wind had rushed through the large tent. In the darkness, it was difficult to see her face, but I heard her soft voice clearly.

She whispered goodnight to her parents and brothers, to the people who touched her life in Forks, to the Denali girls, and Edward and Alice - her ghosts as she called them - and her cat, and finally, in a voice much softer than before, as if speaking to herself, she spoke to me. "Goodnight, Carlisle, wherever you might be, may the moon softly restore you by night."

I felt a stirring in my chest, as if my heart longed to answer her. I had not realized that I had come so close to the mirror until my finger touched the cool surface where I knew she lay. "Goodnight, Isabella my dear, and sweet dreams to you."

The green haze settled over the mirror once more, and I sat motionless, processing what I had just witnessed. She was alive and well. As it sank in, all at once the pain vanished, expelled by pure relief and happiness. Four years of darkness and torment lifted, and I felt...buoyant.

Behind me, questions and exclamations of joy flew while Alice, Edward, Tanya, Kate, and Irina pieced the tale together. Alice and Edward had gone back for her that night and taken her to where she would be safe, to a man named Charlie Swan. I noticed that they neglected to say in what condition they had found Isabella in and let Edward know that I expected him to tell me later. Tanya, Irina, and Kate regaled us all with their first meeting on her birthday, which was in a couple of weeks, how she was treated at school, and how much Charlie loved her. It tore me to pieces to know that children were so cruel to her, but rested easier knowing that she had had someone to care for her the way I wished I could. I would have to repay the man in some way.

When the conversation turned to the events which brought the Denali's face to face with the wolves, I realized that the mysteries surrounding Isabella had only thickened. Where one question was answered, four more sprouted like weeds. Tanya and the girls had traveled to Forks that morning expecting to find Isabella, but were greeted with the scent of vampires, no more than a day or two old. We assumed that Jo came for her some months before based on the faintness of her scent, in late April. Alice was uncertain why other vampires had been roaming around Forks, but theorized that perhaps they were drawn by her unique scent and curious. It made me uneasy.

"She's perfectly safe with her aunt, Carlisle," Alice assured me. "Besides, she can protect herself if she needs to."

"That is the second time you've alluded to her...abilities. Please explain what you mean."

Alice and Edward looked at each other, having one of their secret conversations. Finally Edward cleared his throat. "Aside from what she learned from Kate, without witnessing it, we can't say what she did to Andrew..." the name drew a ferocious growl from my chest, and immediately, Jasper was there, calming me as he had that morning in the woods. Edward whispered his thanks and continued. "But we imagine that it must have been something similar to what Sara did in the story. When we arrived, there was only blood, and he was gone."

With that piece of information, the anger ebbed, and I let my mind drift to harmless and less worrisome questions. Like when I could see her again, or where she was-under the music, I had heard the crashing of waves-and her blanket. The blanket she was wrapped in looked remarkably like one I had from my human life, green, thick, and soft from age. I only took two things before I left england, my father's cross and my mother's blanket. She had knitted it, or so I told myself. I had no real memory of her.

Could it be the same one?

Edward's voice answered the unasked question."When we went back for her, I was concerned about how you'd take the loss. You were already so distraught having been cut off from her, and then to have seen her and lost her again...I didn't give it much thought at the time, but I suppose I grabbed the blanket with the hope that it would comfort her-and you-make things easier."

The room was empty now, and Edward was sitting on the sofa, leaning towards me, eyes unfocused. "Make what easier?"

"The waiting." He paused, and when he spoke I could hear the care he took in choosing his words. "You won't meet her again for some time, Carlisle. We cannot interfere with her life...the risks are too high, and we're not sure if the 'visits' between you both will resume or not."

I nodded, "How long?"

"In most of Alice's visions, Bella is around nineteen...but that can change, her path is..." Edward tailed off, leaving his sentence and me hanging amidst uncertainty. "Alice is having a hard time seeing her clearly, which is why we didn't know about her aunt until _after_ she got her, but she's seen enough."

I thought of her parents, her brothers, the life that had been taken from her, the broken arm, the incident with the jump rope...what else would she face? If I could do nothing to stop it, did I want to know?

"Sometimes, knowledge can be a burden in and of itself, Carlisle."

I looked back to my only connection to her, and the water rippled softly, deep and green. She had questioned whether or not I was real while I was in front of her-what would the years separation do to that doubt? Would she forget me completely, disregard me as an adolescent phase, an imaginary friend she made up to ease her loneliness? So many things could happen in ten years...

"Carlisle, I wish I had the answers. We just have to wait until she grows up and finds us."

The silence grew thick, the future unknown. I sat watching the undulating water, digesting the past hour and all that I had seen, heard, and learned. I could feel Edward's eyes on me and at length I spoke.

"Then we let her grow up, but she grows up without us." The mirror was helpful, it was a tangible tie to her, a way of seeing her, but it was a temptation I could not resist for long, and knowing my family and how much they already seemed to love her, neither would they. It needed to go. "We can't watch her the way we did tonight for the next ten years, it would be unfair to her...and to us."

"Are you sure, Carlisle?" I heard the uncertainty in his voice.

I turned back to him, squared my shoulders, and gathered what was left of my control. "All that matters is that she's safe, Edward, and happy. I don't need to know more. An hour ago, I thought she was dead-I can hardly complain about waiting ten years to see her."

I'd wait as long as I needed to.

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><p><strong>AN: Hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading!**

**Autumn**


	9. Shadow Lake

**A/N: Hello! **

**I'd like to thank you lovely readers, you guys are awesome. Aces. Rock Stars! I'm sorry for the late updates. I'd also love to thank my wonder beta, Nachos for Children. She is phenomenal! *Hugs to you, darling!*  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to the Twilight Saga or it characters. I do own this plot and any new characters.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"Fate steals along with a silent tread." -Greed, 1924<p>

BPOV

My breath made white puffs in the air as I tied my shoes on the front porch. I liked running in the morning best, despite the cold. The world was a nice shade of blue and gray, like the stormy sea. Black Tree was quiet, streets were empty, and if you listened, you could hear nature all around.

Zipping my jacket up, I jogged down the pebbled pathway, rubbing the free-standing iron mailbox for luck as I passed it. The sun was just beginning to peek over the water, filtering through the trees and warming the air as I stepped out onto the main road. The sound my feet made as they hit the pavement, splashed in puddles, and my breath as it whooshed through my ears was what I needed _this_ morning. Jo said I needed to center myself, feel the world around me, focus on my own thoughts and feelings, and control would follow. Running helped; things fell into place while the miles added up and my head cleared.

Sometimes - not all the time - but sometimes, I missed Forks. Not the town - the town was tiny, and old-fashioned. The school left a horrible taste in my mouth, but I missed the small corner of my life there, the white house on the verge of being swallowed by the trees, and the man who made me feel less like a freak-orphan and more like…Bella.

_Charlie,_ I thought fondly as I ran.

The last time I saw him, I was nine and driving away in my aunt's blue Volkswagen bus, my face pressed against the window. As he grew smaller and smaller on front porch with his hands in his pockets and mustache drawn down, I felt a deep sadness weigh on my chest. I had never felt him so…sad. He wasn't my dad, but for three years, he cared for me as if I was his daughter, and I loved him.

I had seen my aunt coming for me weeks before in a dream. I'd had time to prepare myself, prepare Charlie, but when the day came, it had hit us like lightening.

_I had only met my aunt once, and though I couldn't remember it all that well - only that she lived by the sea and was married to a german gypsy with a dark beard - she remembered me. Josephin, or Jo as she preferred, bent down to kiss both my cheeks and gathered me close, flooding me with all the warmth and love she had. She was polite to Charlie and asked if she could come inside, and once she was seated in the shabby living room, she thanked him for taking such good care of me. _

_Up to that moment, her beauty dazed him, because really, she looked so beautiful with her dark wild hair and pale face so bright, but when she thanked him his temper rekindled. He went into a rant about how abused I had been and where he found me, how I could have died. Underneath, he wasn't mad about any of those things. He wasn't mad at all._

"_Where were you? She needed you then!" _She doesn't need you now, she has me. _The thought was clear and loud, and by the face my aunt made, I knew she had heard it just as I had._

"_Charlie," she said, using a name he hadn't given her and laying a hand on his arm, "I understand that you're upset with me. I would be, too, if some stranger showed up to take someone I had grown to love, but you and I need to talk. Would you mind if we did it in private?"_

_Charlie turned pink and did his best to swallow his emotions. He debated for a while whether to send me outside or not; rain clouds were gathering, but there wasn't much of a choice. Words traveled so well in this house. In the end, I was sent to the backyard, all zipped up in my parka. _

_As I left, my aunt winked at me, and in the most clear mental voice I had ever heard, told me to be careful when crossing the street. Confused, I paced around the back yard trying to listen, whacking the tall grass with my hand, and failing to worm my way into in either one of their thoughts. I gave up and decided to make the most of my last minutes in Forks._

_I ran as fast as I could, following the sidewalk down the street and over to the next one. When I crossed Cherry Street to get Angela's house, I realized that my aunt knew I wouldn't stay in the backyard. _

_Angela's mom answered the door, and though she was surprised to see me out of breath on her doorstep, she got Angela anyway. We sat on the porch, arms around each other, saying our goodbyes…crying. We had been best friends since her first day, us two and Mike. Mikes' house was too far, all the way past the Station, so I asked Angela to tell him bye for me and thank you. _

_Before I left, she tied a blue bracelet to my wrist, matching the one on hers and said that as long as I wore my bracelet and she wore hers, we'd never forget each other. It was childish, but we were kids._

_Even now, I looked at it, thought of her, and smiled._

_When I got back, he was standing in the back yard, looking out into the trees. Jo had answered all of Charlie's questions and then some. While his world spun in a endless loop of red eyes and huge wolves, I slipped my hand into his and waited to see what he'd say. He said nothing. _She'll be safe_, was all I could get from him - he kept thinking it. His mind was a difficult place to navigate, buzzing with new information, but the way he felt about me hadn't changed at all. To him, it didn't matter what I was—though he always suspected there was something different about me—I was Bella, and he told me as much. _

_Silently, he helped me gather up my stuff, my life with him. When it was all packed, we stood in my now empty room, him thinking how this was the second time he had to see this room empty. I don't know if it was his sadness or mine or if it was all just too heavy for a little girl to carry, but I sat down on my bed and cried - cried like I hadn't cried since my parents and brothers died. Jo was family, so were my cousins and uncle, but I didn't know them. I knew this life and all the people in it: Charlie, Angela, Mike, Irina, Kate, Tanya. How would Carlisle find me? He didn't know where my aunt lived. _

_As I cried, a fear began to grow in my stomach - if I left, I might never see them again. Tears made Charlie uncomfortable, but that afternoon, he didn't mind them. He took me in his arms and held me, smoothing my hair down my back. It wasn't till I calmed down that I realized he was crying, too._

"_Will I ever see you again?" I asked, sniffling and wiping my face with the back of my hand._

_He didn't answer, but he kissed my cheek, took my hand, and led me downstairs to my aunt. Carlisle the cat was waiting for me by the door - even he looked a little sad to leave. Dinner was on the stove, my homework was scattered on the table, and my drawing of our camping trip was on the fridge, proudly held up by a fish-shaped magnet. It looked like a million nights I'd spent with Charlie, familiar and quiet. Soon, I'd be somewhere new, with new people... _

_I knew I had to go, but...I stopped in the middle of the kitchen, stuck. Tears welled up again._

"_Bells," Charlie choked, kneeling in front of me, holding my hands. He wanted to say something to make me strong, to make me smile, but all he could think was _I love you.

_He had never said those words to me or thought them so clearly, either. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him as hard as I could. "I love you, too, Charlie."_

_Jo drove quietly, tinkling music playing softly between us. When we crossed over into Oregon, she cleared her throat._

"_Sweet pea," she said, "each person has a road to take, much like the road we are on right now. Roads meet and intersect, veer away from each other, and go to far away places. Our paths cross, our roads meet again, taking us to the places we are meant to be. Sadly, there are times when our roads don't lead us back to the people we love, but to have loved them in the first place is more than a person can ask for in this life. I cannot tell you today if your path and his will meet again, but I can tell you that you were lucky to have known such a kind and loving soul."_

At the time, I didn't like what she said. It made me think of a long, lonely road that went right on into forever in darkness. Now, after growing up some, I understood what she was telling me. I would meet, love, and lose people; this was the nature of life, and if it was meant to be, I'd find them again.

I tired to accept that, because really, I had no other choice.

At theedge of town, I stood for a moment, the early morning air icy in my lungs, remembering the first time I saw Black Tree. It was early morning, much like this one, and in the grey gloom, Maine didn't seem all that different from Washington. Same clouds, same fog clinging to the ground. After a day or two, I realized that it was very different.

Black Tree was an old, mysterious little town nestled along Penobscot Bay and steeped in Puritan history. Some said that Black Tree got its name after the burning of Mary Osborn, the sister of Salem's infamous Sara Osborn. The tree they lashed her to was still standing in the middle of town, black, scorched, and dead, protected by a fence and a dozen town laws, as a warning to all witches. Others insisted that the name came from a witch that settled here and turned the trees black with her wickedness. I saw no such trees. More than likely the dopes that founded this town came upon it at dusk, when the disappearing sun turned even the whitest barks black. No one knew for sure, but they went right along telling their stories. In a town with more trees than people, what else was there to do but gossip?

I smiled, inhaling the salty scent of the sea in the breeze. Despite its many, many drawbacks, Black Tree had one thing I loved (aside from the library, of course!): a breathtaking view of the restless ocean. Many sleepless nights, I sat at my bedroom window, looking out at it and feeling a lot like that ocean.

After a moment more of nostalgia, I ran back, passing the little neighborhoods, the library I spent so much time in much to the dismay of old, wrinkled Sheryl Connelly, Black Tree's three schools, and shops along the harbor. A few early birds watched as I ran by for the second time that morning; the fishermen with their boats and bakers with their bread. Some nodded in my direction, others didn't. I ignored the rude thoughts and kept going, smiling as I passed Nik's shop window and the sign that hung proudly: Witches Welcome. Tourists got a kick out it, but certain people in this town got their panties in twist about that one. They even held a town meeting about it-Nik didn't care. _It's a free country,_ he'd say, _that's why we came here, to be free._

I picked up my pace, left the road, and took the long way home, winding through the miles of tall trees standing together as if in deep conversation. When I came out the other side, the sea greeted me, the crashing waves wishing me a soft good morning, along with the faded blue house that stood in the fold of the forest.

My aunt and uncle were already awake, Nik humming to himself as he cooked—from where I stood, I could smell breakfast: tea, coffee, fruit, and pancakes—and Jo puttering away in the greenhouse. From Viola's snoring, I knew she'd sleep for a few more hours still, or at least till someone woke her. Dana was packing, late as always. Lila was plucking at her mandolin, while Carlisle padded around the house, meowing here and there, looking for me. The house was alive and loud.

"Bella, come here, please," Jo called from the stillroom the moment I opened the back door and stepped into the kitchen.

"Guten Morgen," Nik said, his accent thick and deep, turning for a moment to smile at me before ladling out another pancake into the oil.

"Guten Morgen, Nik," I answered him, earning a nod of approval for my pronunciation.

My uncle was a man of many talents - there was almost nothing he did not know, could not fix, or make. He spoke four languages: German, English, French, and Romany, the language of his people. He crafted some of the most beautiful furniture I had ever seen, carved roses, braided wood, and inlaid intricate designs. Wood whisperer, we called him. He played the violin like an extension of his arm, his soul, and plucked a guitar like a Gypsy King. He could soothe ruffled feathers, make tears disappear and turn a frown into a smile (a useful talent when living with five women). And he also happened to be a fantastic cook. His Pfannkuchen were my favorite, but then again, everything Nik cooked was delicious.

My stomach growled, and at the huge iron stove, stood my uncle shaking his head and smiling. "You should eat something before running, Süße." He dropped a kiss on my head as I passed and went about flipping pancakes.

"Don't worry, I had a banana...and now a strawberry," I told him, taking a fruit before walking down the hall. The house was old, dark wood, thick diamond paned windows and rooms with stories and trinkets passed down from generation to generation, built by our family when they first settled in Maine. The floors creaked in places, and at night, when the wind blew, it sounded like the house was breathing, whispering to us. Pictures, some black and white others faded color, looked down on me, faces from the past, and the present, I thought spotting a snapshot of us at the Wicker Man festival in Stoneleigh.

Hesitantly, I stepped into the stillroom, still chewing the stolen strawberry. I noted the dozen half opened books, the slim coated pestle and mortar and the mason jar, with purple smoke curling from it's mouth and into the air, and wondered what Jo was making in here, and for whom.

The stillroom was the oldest part of the house. The spells and potions that had been concocted within these was were incalculable. During the trials, it was _the_ house, only after the hysteria died down did they build the rest. The room was lined with shelves and cabinets of herbs, jars of curious ingredients like mugwort and Nux Vomica, books, and potions. The closets on either side of the room, which had been bedrooms, held all sorts of things from crystal balls to a huge looking-glass, perfect for scrying. In the center of the room was a wooden work table littered with crystals, half-opened books, and herbs, stained and worn from decades of use with stools tucked underneath. I couldn't count the times I had sat on one of those stools, peering over my mom's book, eager to learn something new.

Jo stood on the steps leading out into the green house, barefoot and mentally quiet. "What did I do?"

"Nothing that I know of...yet," she winked, and held out some sheers, her silent request for help. I took them and stepped down into the greenhouse, pruning where I saw wilted and brown leaves.

"Did you have a good run?" she asked. Her voice was casual and soft as she moved from plant to plant, clipping the dead leaves off the red ivy. I nodded, looking at the Red Ivy wearily.

Red Ivy had climbed the exterior of the house ages ago, one story at a time. Its red fingers wrapped around the attic turret, and gave me the impression of two hands wrapped around a slender neck. Now it seemed it wanted to come inside too, to strangle us no doubt. Jo chuckled, hearing my thoughts. "Ivy is a capricious vine, Bella, but it won't come inside…or harm us, it needs to be free, it needs air. Speaking of air, you left very early this morning, troubling dreams again?"

"Just the same one," I mumbled, clipping the wilted leaves a little too forcefully. For three weeks, I had been seeing a man, in the dark and half-hidden, stalking the edges of my dreams. It was always the same, no matter what I dreamt, this man watched, always from the shadows, always hidden, never saying a word or thinking a single thing. It was frustrating…and a little creepy.

I couldn't shake the feeling that he was trying to tell me something.

"Dreams are rarely what they seem." Her voice was far away, thoughts safely locked behind a power I hadn't mastered.

"You always say that," I sighed. My control was getting better. I could block things out, center myself, and maintain control, but some days, mostly at school, my head was like a leaky faucet. It started with a trickle, and by fourth period, it was like a schizo's playground.

"It will get easier, trust me. You are still very young, and your gifts can be overwhelming. They'll only get stronger as you grow up. As for the man, does he scare you?"

"I don't know. But I've seen him before, I just don't remember where. Maybe he's The Sandman...and he's coming for me. Maybe James Hetfield saw him, too."

From the kitchen, Nik started to hum Metallica's famous song, the lyrics loud in his head. Jo narrowed her dark eyes. "That's not funny, Bella."

"I wasn't trying to be."

For a long time, she didn't anything, just worked around the greenhouse, pruning in silence until we came back to where we started. Jo put a hand out for the sheers, and I handed them to her, wondering what she was thinking and why I wasn't allowed to know. In that same annoying silence, she stepped up into the stillroom and began gathering ingredients, almost as if she had forgotten me.

"Am I always going to be like this, Jo, seeing people I should know, but don't, not remembering things? Even before mom and dad..." I trailed off, still unable to really talk about it. "I'd see things and not remember where I had seen them before. It's like I have this whole other life I can't remember."

I watched her carefully, the symbols and words swirling up her wrists, her face that registered my question, but refused to answer it. Her thoughts were deliberately plain, focused on the book in front of her, her emotions calm as if I had asked the most harmless question.

Where my uncle was brimming with talent, my aunt had four very specific talents: growing plants, raising witches, keeping secrets, and fretting out the truth, even if a person has decided to hide it. I found the last one ironic. She had tons of secrets, and while normally I wouldn't care, these days most of them involved me.

I closed my eyes and leaned against glass doors that divided the greenhouse from the stillroom in an effort to relax. A familiar face flashed behind my eyelids, but he didn't make me feel relaxed - the opposite, in fact. I could see him as if he was right in front of me, the soft smooth planes of his face, the gold of his hair and eyes. Like a permanent statue in my head, Carlisle sat in the woods, smiling his heartwarming smile, still and silent. I knew next to nothing about him, only the feelings he stirred up. Only that he was important to me.

Dana had teased me relentlessly the first time I mentioned him, and Vi was sure I'd made him up. Lila never said anything. For my sake, she hoped he was real, but she didn't think he was. Jo was careful to never said _anything_ about him. He had to be real - if he wasn't, how I could feel so much about someone who didn't exist? With his face, came more emotions than I could hold or even understand, and like a bucket overflowing with water, some of it spilled out.

"I don't understand any of it...and it all gets more and more confusing as I grow up." When I opened my eyes, Jo was watching me with sadness in hers.

"Bella," she whispered. "don't try to understand everything all at once. When you're meant to know, the answers will find you."

I rolled my eyes, irritated. "That helps a lot. Why does everything need to be so mysterious? Why can't I just know now and save myself some years of confusion?"

"Patience, Bella...not only is it a virtue, but it will keep you safe."

"More platitudes? I know you know more than you're telling me."

She frowned. "Only fools ask questions when they aren't ready for the answers. Everything has it's time, and now is not that time. When you're older."

I scowled at her, my mother had said the same thing. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because things don't work that way," she snapped, slamming her hands down on the tabletop. The whole house went quiet: Nik stopped humming, Dana paused halfway down the stairs, and Lila put the mandolin down. Even Carlisle stopped his meowing. Jo hardly ever yelled.

She took a deep, calming breath, before she opened her mouth. "Go shower. Breakfast will be ready soon."

xXXx

The conversation between Jo and I didn't wash away with the warm water like I hoped, but I let it go...for now. Being told to wait was nothing new to me. It was frustrating, and sometimes, I just wanted to scream the house down. But controlling my emotions was as important as controlling my gifts, my aunt kept reminding me, and that required patience. I wasn't very good with patience. In fact, Jo often joked that the one gift I seemed to have been born without was patience. She made sure to drill it into me, one painful inch at a time.

"I don't want to go!" Dana complained, spearing a piece of pancake. "Can't we just skip it this year? Lila and Bella might be socially retarded, but we - " She gestured her fork between herself and Vi, dripping syrup on the floor. "Have lives."

Lila rolled her eyes, and continued eating, stabbing her fruit in way that suggested just how sick of listening to Dana she was. I didn't blame her; Dana spent half her life bitching about one thing or another. The other half was devoted to boys.

Vi nodded, pushing her pancakes around with her fork. "We have things to do here, and we can't just vanish for weeks! How strange would that be? What would we tell our friends?"

"That you danced naked under the stars, of course," Lila said in all seriousness.

Viola's head was a mess filled with fantasies of summer parties with the popular kids and late night sessions of sucking face with her boyfriend of the week. When she pictured herself as the Queen Bee of Black Tree High, it was my turn to roll my eyes.

Jo looked up from her plate. "I've already told you both, we're going. Our family has been going to these gatherings since before my mother's mother was born, and we aren't breaking that tradition now."

Dana opened her mouth, but Nik stopped her before she could launch into a rant about how unfair they were being. "You heard your aunt, enough."

"But that's soo unfair, Nik," Lila mocked, flipping her hair over one shoulder. "How will we rule the school if we can't like hang with the popular crowd all summer?"

Vi and Dana glared at her, but I laughed, hugging one knee to my chest. Carlisle hopped up in the table, and I thought I saw a twinkle of laughter in his bright blue eyes.

Lila continued, fanning away fake tears with both her hands. "My life will be, like, totally over if I don't make out with every guy in school this summer. It's, like, social suicide!"

"I don't sound like that! Shut up, Lila!" Dana screeched, throwing a strawberry across the table.

She missed. Carlisle darted off the table and climbed the huge old peeling hutch near the stove, safe from flying fruit. The next strawberry hit me. "Not again," Jo groaned.

Nik's eyes grew sad. "People starve all over the world, and you throw food."

"Hey!" I protested, wiping syrup from my cheek. "What did I do?"

"That's what you get for laughing!" Viola quipped, drawing herself up in her chair. She looked so haughty, that when a chunk of pancake hit her square in the face, I laughed even louder than before. Beneath the dripping syrup, her face turned red, and mouth thinned. She was pissed.

Like most tiny arguments among us four, this turned into an all out bickering match fast. Four girls under one roof was dangerous - four _teenage_ girls was a ticking bomb. Lila was mocking the two of them, pitching her voice so high, Carlisle hissed at us from the top of the hutch. Dana was fuming, her pale skin bright pink with anger. Vi was screaming over Lila, insisting that she stop making fun of her. I tried to stay out of it, but somehow always ended up being dragged into the thick of things.

Jo and Nik watched with frowns, occasionally reprimanding one of us for a harsh word. Their philosophy on parenting was relaxed; they only intervened when we hurt each other or disobeyed the house rules, but they hated when we fought. I hated it, too, but only because I couldn't always control myself during them. The shouting, the emotions...I almost always lost control. Soon, all the yelling and mental noise became too much for me. My head was throbbing!

I asked them to stop, pressing the heels of my palms to my temples. They didn't listen, so I raised my voice, "Stop! Shut up! Shut up!"

"Don't tell me to shut up! You shut up!" Dana told me, indignant.

Lila snorted. "Why don't_ you _shut up, you're not saying anything smart anyways!"

"'Cause you are, Lila?" Vi added sarcastically.

They kept fighting back and forth. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to concentrate on the wall, not the half-cooked one my mom had taught me when I was six, but the solid one Jo helped me with everyday. I stood behind it, the clear glass between me and the circus at the table cracking ominously, tiny fissures multiplying. I couldn't focus. All I could do was watch as it crashed to the floor. There was a moment of silence before the noise, their half-formed arguments and anger drowned me. I could feel a tingling at my fingertips, spreading out over my hands and arms.

I knew what would happen before it happened and wondered how the heck Kate turned it on and off so easily.

My hands banged on the smooth wood and a chorus of "ouch" sang around the table. I felt Jo come to stand beside me, her gentle hands on my face. Slowly, I opened my eyes, tasting the anger in the air. Lila smiled softly at me, telling me that it was no big deal, but Vi and Dana were less understanding. They left the table together, glaring at me over their shoulders. Jo threw Lila a look that clearly dismissed her, but she choose to be oblivious and continued eating her breakfast.

"Go to your room, Lila."

"I'm eating," she insisted, but Jo didn't care. "Fine, I'm going."

Nik sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee. He was trying to hide it, but a huge smile was spreading behind his mug.

"That was a shock," he said, once Lila let the room, winking at me across the table.

"Niklaus!" Jo reprimanded sharply.

"She made them stop." He put down his mug and chuckled. "Besides, it was only a little zap."

"It's not funny; she could have really hurt us."

She wasn't mad, but my little outburst was nothing to joke about. Ashamed, I looked down at my hands where they rested lightly on the weathered table. Each tapered finger looked harmless, just a bit of skin slipped over bones, but I knew better. Upstairs, Dana was listening to the crap she called music, throwing clothes around her already messy room, while the one word I hated more than any other word ran through her head.

_Freak!_

I hated it when people used it, but most of all when my own family used it. It was like a slap in the face.

_Freak! Freak! _she thought, throwing the word at me.

Jo noticed the direction of my thoughts and Dana's and moved to comfort me, but I slipped out from under her arms and ran up the stairs, Carlisle trailing behind me. Nik told her to let me go, and reluctantly she sat back down. When Dana heard me in the hall, she turned the volume up on her stereo, screaming the word louder in her head until it drowned out her horrible taste in music.

_Freak!_

I slammed my door as hard as I could, the sound rattling through the house, and sent another pulse her way, this one deliberate and sharp. She yelped loudly and stopped the mental insults.

xXXx

By noon, the bus was packed - the ornately carved and painted Vardo hooked up to the tow hitch. From Black Tree to Shadow Lake was about four hours, give or take with the summer traffic, five or six if Jo drove; she was a fan of scenic routes and stopping to "take it all in." Luckily for us, Nik hopped in the driver's seat at a gas station on Duck Cove Rd, as it was, the car ride already felt like purgatory. Dana and Viola had decided to make everyone miserable if they couldn't get their way, but really, I was the one to feel it. Being around them when they were like this was the best practice I could ask for.

_Focus and breathe, Bella. It's there, you just have to feel it. _Jo coached from the front seat.

One of the first things she did once I was settled in Maine was explain how my "wall" worked. In truth, it wasn't a wall, not really, though sometimes I pictured it as one. It was literally a pliable shield, both mental and physical. My mom had only called it a wall so that I could understand, but the shield could protect my mind as well as my body, and if I choose to extend it, anyone inside. It was invisible, but it was always there, ready to be used. Jo referred to my gifts as like muscles, I had to use them to strengthen them. They needed to be second nature to me, not a reflex.

The goal by the end of the summer was for me to be able to hold the mental shield, indefinitely.

An hour into the trip I was able to block them out, mostly. Their thoughts and moods were gone, but shutting them out completely was part of the physical shield. It was tricky, and the one time I took a crack at it...well, let's just say things didn't work out so well. I wasn't allowed to put them to sleep like I used to do to my babysitter in Folks. Lila tried to distract herself with a comic book, but it really didn't work.

_This is why we need muzzles, Bells, _she thought impatiently, closing the comic and resting it in her lap. Carlisle looked up at us, from where he was lounging between us, sympathetically blinking his blue eyes.

We stopped in New River Beach along the way to stretch our legs, and once back on the road, Dana and Vi just_ happened_ to get sleepy. Someone thanked me, but I couldn't be sure who. In the rearview mirror, Nik winked at me and turned the music up as we continued our drive through Ontario.

After some twists and turns on roads, only those who had traveled them before knew we had arrived at Shadow Lake with enough sunlight left to enjoy the summer evening. The camp sat in a crescent-shaped clearing, like a village buried in the Canadian woods. Trees, old and thick, formed the curved spine, and at the mouth was the lake, slow and peaceful, with huge sunlit mountains for a back drop.

I rolled down the window and stuck my head out; the heat had calmed some, but not much. The heady scent of incense and rose oil swirled in the air along with the aromas of nature. Families were making camp and enjoying the company of old friends, waving and hollering at us from their carved out kingdoms. In the distance, I could hear loud cackling laughter and the wail of a violin, passionate gypsy airs, and soulful ballads, banjos and mood harmonicas.

Large groups of people normally made me uncomfortable, the thoughts and emotions I was learning to keep at bay were potent and inescapable, but not here, not with these people.

I belonged here.

Together, we set up our tent: a large, exotic, and spacious thing at the top of the crescent with our backs to the woods and our faces toward the sun. The Vardo was wheeled around beside our tent, accessible through the flaps Jo had tied back. Preferring the comforts of home that it offered, Carlisle darted inside to curl up in the blankets folded on the bed. Music floated from the radio Nik placed on the wooden dinning table, something full of sitars and silver bells - Ravi Shankar, more than likely. While Nik unpacked the food and Jo made our home in the tent, lighting candles, getting the fire roaring, and making up their bed, we girls got our cots ready, bringing out blankets, pillows, and our bags. When we were younger, we all slept together behind a gauzy curtain that separated us from the living space, but now, Lila and I shared one little alcove and Dana and Vi another on the opposite side of the tent. The reason: sometimes I had nightmares and they complained.

"Come on, Bells," Lila said, dropping her bag on the bed and wiping her hands off on her shorts. "Let's go look around."

I finished folding my blanket and followed her through the green curtains dividing our room. Dana and Vi were sitting on the table looking glum and bothered, but they asked if they could join us. "Anything to get away from here," one said. Deep down, they liked being here (though they'd never admit it out loud), these were our people after all. Jo told us to have fun and be back by dinner which was already simmering over the fire and filling the air with a rich and spicy aroma. We all nodded and walked out into the hot afternoon, eager to explore.

Midsummer celebration, also known as the Summer Solstice, was tomorrow. It was said that on the Solstice, the gap between the living and dead vanished, and the two became one. Spirits, good and bad, were said to seek out those sensitive to them. While some of the elders could, and often did, go on and on about the origins of Midsummer, our duties, and the ritual songs going back to Old England, the gathering was essentially a festival. We gathered in love and unity, with music and games and dancing under the moon around a giant bonfire made from logs of each family and bay leaf-wishes. A wish written on a bay leaf and burned made the wish come true, even more so if burned in the company of other wishes. There were little trinkets for sale, necklaces, and bags of herbs and spells for protection. Old grandmas told stories to little ones - some frightening and precautionary, others full of silliness. Gypsies, who had thrown in their lot with us witches ages ago, came with their wagons, or vardos, ready to tell fortunes and read tea leaves and cards. Nik warned us against them, insisted that they sold lies.

Friends of Jo's waved as we passed and made us promise to visit later. We lost Dana and Vi to the pair of good-looking boys related to Nik by an uncle twice-removed. They were shirtless, tan, and smiling, and that was enough for my cousins. Lila and I moved on, knowing from experience to leave them to their flirting.

When we reached the center of camp, Soleil, our good friend, called for us to wait up as we passed her family's rust-colored camper and lawn chairs. She tagged along as we perused the makeshift market that had been tossed up near the lake bed, or as we called it, The Shadow.

Soleil was older than us, more Dana's age, but she and Lila had the same dark sense of humor, and her and I shared what she liked to call sensitivity. I called it empathy, but where she could only feel, I could feel and influence. She was the color of milk chocolate with hooded soulful green eyes and long caramel colored curly hair that she said was because of her Criollo blood. She liked to pretend she was a Voodoo Priestess, ruling the French Quarter with her mere and grandmere, mother and grandmother.

"Bella," she said in a sing-song voice, bringing the incense stick to her pierced nose. "Don't look now, but Noah Ellis is staring at you again."

"Okay."

I continued choosing incense, but Lila looked over to where they were sitting. Around a thick fallen trunk, they tuned their guitars, banjos and blew into their harmonicas. "Nik says he's trouble."

I shrugged and handed Lila the money for the incense. "Nik says that about all boys."

"I'd be okay with _his _type of trouble anyday." Soleil fixed her bright eyes on Noah, smirking to herself. She pictured a dozen different scenes with him - in her backyard, under the shady trees, his freckled skin against her much darker skin, on the beach, in the ocean, the surf crashing into them as they kissed.

Lila found Noah's twin, a tall boy with long blonde hair tied up in a bun at the nape of his neck, and smiled. "So would I."

They were talking about two very different boys, but I made no comment about Lila's interest. Nate and Noah were alike in so many ways, but their personalities were as different as moonbeams and lightning; one was shy and timid, the other bold and blunt.

"The things that boy could teach you..." I got a good look at what she wanted him to teach her and snorted. "We can share, honey."

"You can have him all to yourself," I laughed and elbowed Soleil's ribs softly. "But I thought you didn't like him. At the Walpurgis, you said he was a beach bum."

"I had a change of heart," she shrugged. "Beach bums can be sexy, you know. The sand, the water... the sun glittering off all that blonde hair."

"He lives in the mountains, Soleil."

"Mmmm, even better. I like a strong mountain man."

I looked over at the boys, fiddling with my mother's necklace. With older cousins and my so called "gifts," I had a deeper understanding of things than any normal thirteen year old girl - attraction, sex, arousal, lust. I had no personal experience with these things, but I knew of them; they were like unwanted companions that tagged along whether you wanted them to or not. Lila and Soleil were awash with arousal and attraction, so were the boys. The drumming of their collective hearts was it's own instrument, perfectly in tune with the real ones thudding loudly. Noah caught my eye and winked, looking me up and down appreciatively, before he begun to strum his old beat up guitar. While he played a soft folky song, he thought about my lips, how red they looked, and the miles of skin my shorts and tank top left exposed.

One of Soleil's perfectly plucked eyebrows quirked up, intrigued. "Ohhh, Bella, his eyes are burning! I can feel it. If he looked at me like that..."

She didn't need to finish the sentence - her head was already painting the scene.

I wasn't blind. He was handsome, sixteen, and strong the way mountian boys usually were. His shoulders and long straight nose were freckled from the California sun I was always hearing about. His hair was like honey, and hung in wind blown waves to his shoulders. The fine hairs on his face were the same hue, and shimmered in the sun, just like in Soleil's fantasy. Every girl here was half in love with him, if not completely head over heels.

Mild curiosity was all I felt. We could even be friends if he would stop bothering me all the time.

"Let's go talk to them."

"Yeah, please."_ Nate is over there._

Before they could beg, I agreed. Soleil was halfway there, her floral skirt fluttering around her long legs, when I turned to Lila and whispered, "But only for a little while...if Noah tries to kiss me again, I'm going to zap him so bad, he'll be twitching til next year."

Lila laughed, remembering the slap I gave him six months ago. "I think he remembers the price of stolen kisses, Bells. No need to go all Rouge on him."

"Geek," I teased, smiling at the faded X-men shirt she "fixed" hanging off one shoulder.

"Nerd," she teased back, with a playful shove.

The moment we came over, we were greeted with words of welcome, and I was attacked with their thoughts, curious, bold, and everything in between. Nate blushed to the tips of his ears when Lila sat down beside him and bent his head to hers. Soleil sat to Noah's left, purposely flashing a bit of thigh. Noah ignored it, but the other boys sure appreciated the view.

Noah put down his guitar and patted the rough spot next to him. "You haven't worked some spell on me, have you? I haven't been able to sleep a wink since I last saw you. Every time I go to close my eyes, there you are, lovely and pale. And you've only grown more beautiful since then."

Thom, a short boy with black hair and smoky grey eyes, snorted. _Laying it on thick, man._

Soleil laid her hand on his knee. "Legend says when you can't sleep at night, it's because you're awake in someone else's dream."

He looked down at it, then at her before fixing his blue eyes on my face. "Have you been dreaming about me?"

I sat, unsure of how to respond. "Jo makes a great tea for insomnia; you should ask her for some."

"Bella." He smiled lazily, shaking his head, eyes dancing. His index finger came up to my lips, taping them with a calloused tip. "It's not tea I need...but a little honey might be just the thing."

I wrinkled my nose, catching the drift of his words. Soleil frowned, Thom shook his head, and his buddy Justin pulled a face. Lila stared at him through narrowed, dark eyes. "Watch yourself, Ellis."

"I'll be good." He drew a cross over his heart with one finger, winked, and picked up his guitar. "Cross my heart. Now, what would you lovely ladies like to hear?"

In the end, we didn't stay very long. Right as Noah began the first few lines of a favorite song of mine, Dana and Vi showed up to "collect us." They talked a bit, their normal flirtatious banter leaning more towards plutonic. We were sort of family, after all - however distant - connected by marriage centuries ago.

The Ellis family was almost as old as ours, but with only sons, the magic was fading from theirs, like most of the families gathered around here. His mother was the last witch in a sea of men and boys.

While I was perfectly happy to be taken away from the impromptu jam session, Lila was less than pleased. "Couldn't we have stayed a few minutes longer?" she protested, looking back at Nate.

Dana rolled her eyes. "We're late as it is. You can flirt some more tomorrow. We're stuck here for a few more days, and I heard the Ellis clan is tagging along with us for the rest of the summer."

Lila grinned, and I chewed on my cheek, biting until I tasted blood. _Weeks with Noah and no escape - fun, _I thought sarcastically.

"Has hell frozen over or did I see someone else flirting? Bella and Noah sure looked cozy," Vi snickered. "What would Carlisle say if he saw? Imaginary boyfriends can be as jealous as gypsies!"

I scowled at her and kicked a small rock in her direction. He _wasn't_ imaginary, and he certainly wasn't my boyfriend. I didn't know _what_ he was. Lila slipped her arm through mine and bumped me with her hip.

_Don't listen to Vi, _she thought, _she just teasing you._ "That wasn't flirting, Vi. You should recognize it, you are the expert. Making fast friends with Rik, are we? Poor Jimmy What's-His-Face back home."

Vi shrugged her shoulder carelessly. "Life is too short to be tied to one person."

Lila snorted. "The slut's motto. You should tattoo that on your ass, both of you."

Dana smiled despite being called a slut. She didn't care, not really. Vi took offense, but chose to stew in sullen silence for once. Her tempers, just like her interest in boys, were like a flashes in the pan. They burned hot and fast, but were gone in seconds...until the next one.

As we made our way through the scores and scores of tents, campers, and vardos among the rapidly falling night, life erupted from every corner and camp fire. The music got louder, the laughter freer as the atmosphere thicken like a stew of euphoria and liberty. The first stars were coming out, twinkling like gems. The whole lake front and forest glowed warmly, red and orange. Scents of herbs, food, wine, whiskey, and fire drifted around me. The sheer joy of it was enough to make me feel giddy - drunk even.

We were all laughing at a joke Dana heard from her shirtless beau when I heard something. Instantly, I sobered up.

_Isabella. _

The voice came from the wind it seemed, low and chilly. A cold shiver clawed down my spine, it's nails digging in deep. My cousins continued walking, chattering about tomorrow and their wishes, even Lila failed to notice that I wasn't following. I looked all around for the source of that voice, my heart pounding. I could see our tent in the distance, red then black in the flickering fire light. People were laughing, their thoughts nothing more than whips of images and snatches of words as I concentrated on finding the voice. To my left, there were camps and people I knew and trusted, and to my right a vardo, alone with only the dark forest for a neighbor. It was a garish thing - painted pink and bright blue with gold designs and glowing windows.

Voices were coming from that little den of mystery, but...

A woman looked out of the window suddenly, as if she felt my eyes on her wagon. "Child, I've been waiting a long time for you," she rasped, opening her door and stepping out onto the wooden steps.

"Did...did you call me just now?" I asked, eyeing her suspiciously. Her hair was black, threaded with silver in places and curled around her smooth olive skin.

"No, but I heard it, too,_ Isabella_. The voices...are all around." Her lips cracked with a smile meant to put me at ease. It only made me more weary. "As the Solstice draws near, the spirits grow restless. I hear lots of things, lots of questions...and many answers. I have the answers to _your _questions. The blonde man, compassionate and stubborn...I see him, too. All you have to do is ask."

_Carlisle,_ I thought, my heart fluttering. In my moment of hesitation, Jo's words from this morning came back, fierce and loud. _Only fools ask questions when they aren't ready for the answers. _

Was I ready?

Her smile grew, flashing white teeth like a wolf.

"And how do I know you're not lying?" I asked, feeling a sudden and unexplainable deep dislike for the woman.

"You would know if I was lying, just as you knew that I wasn't the one who called you." The woman stepped down from the wooden stairs and held out a calloused hand. "Still...you best come inside, dear. The voices are whispering, and you'll want to know what they are saying." _Before it is too late_, she added mentally, staring at me knowingly.

I took a step back. No one _knew_ about that outside of us six. Empathy was common amongst our kind, the other things weren't.

"Aren't you curious, Isabella? I could show you all you want to know."

Everything was screaming at me to be careful, but I was curious. The woman's eyes were black and full of knowledge, and they drew me in. Without hesitation, I took a step towards her. I could see things swirling in her head through mist and smoke: pale skin, golden hair, red eyes as my shoes dragged through the dirt. I knew I shouldn't go...

"Bella." My aunt's voice broke the silence from somewhere behind me. I shook my head, and the line pulling me closer snapped. Her thoughts called me, and I obeyed, shaken and a little frightened by the strength of her anger. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders the moment I came to her side protectively.

Her eyes were on the woman, _Eva,_ the woman supplied internally, hot and fierce.

"I'm not going to eat her, Josephine."

"Stay away from my girls."

As we turned Eva called to Jo. "When are you going to tell her? She deserves to know."

"I warned you once, I will not be so generous the next time," Jo answered without stopping or turning around to face the woman.

I did, and the look on Eva's face was unforgettable - restrained rage and a pinprick of fear. Jo was a peaceful person, threats weren't her thing, and I found myself wondering what Eva knew.

xXXx

That night after dinner, our tent played host to a party of sorts. Friends filtered in and out, bringing with them warm greeting and food. Nik played his violin, lively songs that pulled children, men, and woman up on their feet to dance. Lila and I sang a song or two, covers of old songs we loved, joined by Noah and his brother on their respective instruments. Juliana, Noel and Nate's mother, came by with a cherry and plum streusel, drizzled with honey and almonds. Her brothers, Kenneth and Keith, also twins, told us about life in a traveling circus: clowns, trapeze artists and dancing bears. The boys Dana and Vi "befriended" came by, too. I did my best to put the eerie voice and the cryptic altercation with Eva out of my mind. My aunt was better at it than I was.

Jo and Nik stayed up talking long after the tent emptied and we girls went to bed. Dana and Viola were fast asleep, as was Lila beside me. Even Carlisle was asleep, curled at my feet and purring softly.

"I don't like those boys hovering around the girls. They're too young."

"Which boys? Which girls?"

"I'd be happier if all four of our girls were left alone, but I meant Nate and Noah."

"It's innocent."

"It never is."

"Let them have their fun, Niky. Let them be young and free while they can. Let them sing and dance, love when they want, and run through the forest. Life can't be this simple forever."

"I'm merely saying that I don't like it." He got up and kissed her lips once, leaching the touch of sadness he heard in her voice. Whispering against them, Nik spoke. "Let's not think about that now. We have time still. Dance with me."

"To what music?" she asked with a laugh, getting up regardless and folding herself into his embrace.

"We'll make some."

I smiled, listening to Nik's humming, letting his tune lull me to sleep. I could feel the weightlessness of sleep and dreams hovering near. My eyes lids got heavy, blinking once and twice until, finally, sleep won.

I was walking in the dream, on the edge of a forest, and in the trees moving with me was the man, dark and hooded. Then I heard the voice calling my name.

My eyes snapped open, and my heart beat fast.

_Isabella. _

It called me louder than before, almost shouting in my head. I waited for Jo to come and check on me as she always did, but she was still dancing, oblivious. My name echoed in my head, and I pulled my legs up to my chest, careful not to disturb Carlisle. The canvas groaned as I swung my legs over the cot, my bare feet resting on the cool grass. I didn't have time to debate whether this was a good idea or not. Jo would scold me later, tell me I was reckless, but I couldn't be bothered with that now. Lila turned over and yawned, but didn't wake when I stood.

_Isabella._

With one last look at my aunt and uncle through the gauzy haze of the curtain, I slipped out into the night. I was going to find out who that voice belonged to.

It was dark, and everyone seemed to be sleeping or heading in that direction. Fires glowed softly, the dying embers lingering here and there. I crept around camps making sure to be quiet, in search of that voice. At night, the temperature dropped drastically out here, and my skin broke out in goosebumps under my thin shirt and shorts. My mother's amulet was ice cold against my sternum, and my bare feet were freezing. I passed by Soleil's family camper, and skirted around Noah and Nate, who were awake and talking. When I came to the place where Eva's vardo had been I found nothing but the marks in the grass where her wheels had sat.

"She sure didn't waste any time," I breathed.

Again, I heard my name, echoing off the trees this time, and I turned to face the forest. "As the Solstice draws near, the spirits grow restless," I repeated in a soft whisper, touching the hard lump of crystal under my shirt. I had no doubt that in that labyrinth of thick darkness I would find the owner. I should have been scared, but oddly enough, I wasn't.

Just as I was about to take a step, something soft and warm brushed against my legs, and when I looked down, two huge blue eyes were looking up at me. Bending to lift Carlisle off the ground, I scolded him, softly.

"What are you doing here? I don't remember asking you to tag along, mister." He purred and knocked his head into my chin.

I couldn't hear him - animals' thoughts weren't like ours, but I got the feeling that he was telling me in his own way, that where I went, he went as well. He was defiant and stubborn, but I loved him more for those traits.

"Fine," I sighed. "But we're going in there." I nodded to where the branches twisted and clawed at the sky and moon. "So if you're scared, now's the time to speak up."

Naturally, he said nothing, because cats couldn't talk...or if you believed the stories - they couldn't anymore. The lights of the camp faded behind us as we walked deeper, hidden by tall dark and rough trunks. The voice hung in the air like a curl of smoke, leading me forward, deeper, but we were alone in these woods. I was sure of it. I felt nothing, heard nothing but my name, the din of nature, and the distant laps of the lake.

The voice grew weaker, fading until it died off like an echo too far away to hear. The darkness was creeping in all around me, every direction looked the same. I stood there waiting until the wind rose up and whipped at my hair. Stroking Carlisle's back, I told him it was time we got back.

"There's nothing out here but trees and wind. I'm going crazy." He hissed, and I amended: "Crazier."

He hissed again, opening his mouth and baring his teeth aggressively this time, his ears flat against his head. Growling, Carlisle dug his claws into my shoulder and stomach, his lithe body tense. His hind legs sunk in deeper and his tail bristled in anger. I had never seen him act this way.

"Ouch! You're hurting me. Carlisle, what's wrong?" Even as I asked, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I became aware of something cold moving behind me.

"He's frightened, Isabella, as you should be."

I gasped and turned around, coming face to face with the very person I had been looking for. The voice was the same. Surprisingly, my heart stayed steady, hands still. He was tall, much taller that Nik, thin, and cloaked in darkness. His face hidden by the hood he wore, but I didn't expect any different. He was a shadow, as foreboding as always and just as familiar as he was in my dreams.

Did spirits always look so...solid?

I took a step closer, never once thinking that he could be dangerous. Carlisle detached himself and landed on the ground in front of me, hissing and growling and clawing at the stranger. I couldn't help the questions that fell from my lips, I had so many.

"Who are you? Are you a spirit? How do you know me? Why do you keep calling me? I've seen you before...but where? Please, say something. Tell me something. Anything!"

He stayed silent, watching me and Carlisle, from beneath his hood. The sky was dark, the moonrays lost in the canopy of boughs, but I could see his hands and throat. The skin that wasn't covered was white and stark against all the black. I had a sudden thought, of Der Großmann and the horror stories Nik told us about the terrible demon that haunted the Black Forest in Germany. My mind conjured the image - unnaturally tall and thin, white as bones, faceless, hollow sockets where eyes should be, razor-sharp teeth, and fingers like claws. Better for ripping apart naughty children.

_Der Großmann is just a story, he's not real_. I tried telling myself, but a childish fear was sinking into my bones refusing to go away.

No, I thought, lifting my chin and standing straighter. I couldn't be scared. "You aren't scaring me, if that's what you want."

He was holding me before I had a chance to blink, his hands curling hard around my shoulders. He was angry, I could feel it now, percolating within him. He didn't breathe, just watched, searching my eyes while my heart shuddered in my chest. With his face so close to mine, fear ran hot in my veins. There was no pretending.

"Isabella."

He was not the monster I expected, nor was he a spirit. He looked like a man, human enough despite the chill in his fingers, but his eyes...they weren't hollow. No, his eyes were blazing like fire, red and hot.

I had seen eyes like this before.

"You used to be a better liar." He inhaled deeply and frowned. "I can smell the fear on you."

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed the chapter because I sure enjoyed writing it! **

**XX**

**Autumn**


	10. The Lion's Roar

**A/N: Hello! I would just like to say thank you to you lovely people out there for your patience. Thank you for reading and maintaining interest, even when I take ages to update. A million thanks to my Super-Beta, Nachos$Children, you are a rock star! **

**Twilight and it's character do not belong to me, however, this plot and a handful of characters do. Lion's Roar belongs to a wonderful group by the name of First Aid Kit. Check them out. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"This is going to make a splendid story." - Show People, 1928<p>

Noah's POV

One by one, the little witches filed out of their tent and into the dawn after their aunt like ducks in a row - the pink and orange light making them all look more beautiful than usual. Jo was a striking woman; I had had a crush on her once, but my eyes followed the girls, one in particular. They were creamy-skinned and doe-eyed creatures, legends, sirens, as different and fierce as Mother Earth herself, inspiring love, lust, and fear wherever they went. Bella was the worst one.

Jo lead her ducklings through the camp and towards the lake, smiling and wishing me a good morning and happy solstice as she passed me. Dana and Vi looked like zombies, shuffling in their leggings, tank tops, and sandals, yawning, but they nodded in my direction nonetheless. Lila's eyes were half closed as she rubbed the sleep from them, her long brown hair braided and draped over her shoulder. She opened her eyes long enough to make eyes at my brother. Bella brought up the tail of their little procession, eyes wide, alert, but too preoccupied to notice me.

I noticed her though. Her long hair hung freely around her pale shoulders, unlike her cousins. From where I stood, I appreciated the way the sun lit her hair, turning it red in places, the way her shirt inched up as she walked, revealing an intriguing slice of her stomach, and how small her shorts were.

_All that skin..._

"Noah." Reproach dripped from my brother's voice, even this early in the morning. "Don't."

I ignored him and followed _her_.

"Noah," she called without looking over her shoulder, her voice a bit raspy because of the night air no doubt...or the singing. Ah, her singing.

"Morning, Beautiful." I smiled, shaking my head and matching my stride with hers. It was impossible to surprise her. I learned that back when we all played _Kiss the Witch_ last summer, so I never tried. As we walked, the back of her hand grazed my forearm, and I felt a zing of pleasure run up my arm and to my heart.

"Are you always up so early, or do you want something?"

"I told you before, I haven't been able to sleep since that kiss. It's all I think about."

She murmured something that sounded like "You don't have to tell me," and my smile grew, remembering how her lips tasted of strawberries. That kiss had been worth the sting of her hand.

"How about you? Did _you_ sleep well last night?" I baited, noticing that her face looked surprisingly refreshed, in spite of her moonlit clandestine meeting with a strange man in the forest. She couldn't have slept much.

Bella stopped suddenly and turned to face me, her brown eyes hard, searching, suspicious. I grinned, rocking back on my heels, waiting for her to pepper me with questions. She didn't. She never did. Instead, she nodded quickly, and ran to catch up with her cousins, hugging the yoga mat closer to her chest as she went.

_Well, Noah, you knew it wouldn't be easy._

I continued down the path to the lake, greeting friends as they emerged, sleepy and disheveled, out of their tents and campers to stoke fires, wishing them a happy solstice before venturing through the thin tree line between the camp and the glittering lake. Jo and the girls had walked farther down the lake shore, where they wouldn't be interrupted and were rolling out their mats. I sat myself down on a flat rock a few feet away.

Jo didn't mind me watching, even if Bella did.

As her cousins grumbled about the early morning practice, Bella stared at me, an inscrutable expression on her pretty face. I raised my mug to her, and she looked away, irritated, but not embarrassed. As far as I knew, Bella didn't get embarrassed. Jo called their attention and the talking, grumbling, and yawning stopped. She began their practice with breathing, speaking in a soft and soothing voice. I smiled to myself, hearing my own mother's direction. She held classes, too, only she charged.

"Let the breath flow through you, calm you, anchor you to the earth. Inhale through your nose, down to your center, exhale and let it grow, up your belly and into your ribs and lungs. Bring the breath up and out."

Even in Portola, California, a tiny city on the Middle Fork of the Feather River, by all accounts not a "trendy" place, yoga was catching like a cane field in high wind. It was more than a trend though, it was a way of life. Its roots were deep in Ancient India, mentioned in _Vedas_, one of the oldest sacred scrolls, my mom had told me. The philosophy was balance, to achieve poise, strength, and control and look at the aspects of life, pleasure and pain, with acceptance and serenity.

While I couldn't immerse myself in the whole yoga thing, I could see why so many were drawn to it, why witches had been practicing for centuries. It was physical, mental, and metaphysical, seeking truth through yoking the body and mind with the universe, the very earth we called mother.

As the practice continued, I could still hear my mom rambling on and on about the eight limbs of yoga. It sounded like gibberish to me.

From my perch, I drank my coffee and watched them move from pose to pose, their limbs flowing like a river, smooth and fluid - well, sort of. Dana wasn't very flexible, but she was trying. Vi wasn't rooted enough to the earth and kept losing her balance, but Lila and Bella were focused and grounded, limber. I could hear Bella's breathing, in and out, and fierce as she moved. In crow pose, with her knees swept on her arms and toes off the ground, her face was soft, almost serene, but the beads of sweat rolling off her and the vein jumping at her temple said different. Through the intensity of the practice her eyes remained closed, her breath steady and body strong, as strong as I suspect her mind was. It was admirable and...pretty damn hot.

When they finished, hands to heart and a soft "Namaste," each girl went their own way. Dana laid down on her mat, her chest heaving and face red. Vi trudged back to the camp, smirking when she passed me and mumbling about jealous imaginary boyfriends. Lila went for a swim after a minute or two in child pose.

"Jo?" I asked as she came towards me with Bella at her elbow. "Do you mind if I borrow Bella for a moment?"

Her face was pink from exertion, damp curls of dark hair were plastered to her temples and down the column of her neck. All at once, I relived that summer where I had been totally infatuated by this woman; heat flooded my face. A inviting smile curled the corner of her lips as she spoke. "Bella's time is her own, Noah. Ask her."

A look passed between them; Bella canted her head to one side, and Jo smiled softly, then turned to me. Sympathy danced in her dark eyes. Before I could reason out what had put it there, it vanished. With a sigh, she touched my shoulder and swept past me, her bare feet snapping twigs in her wake.

"Up for a walk?"

"Sure." Her voice was soft, calm from the practice.

_Good_, I thought to myself. _She'll be more open._

Instead of heading back towards the camp, I led us west, down and along the lakefront. The sun was higher in the sky now, bright and hot and shining on the water. All around us, through the web-like lattice of tree boughs and limbs, mountains, green and brown, rose. After a while, the shore gave way to forest. The local flora bloomed here and there, ripe with color. Shadow Lake was, despite it's somewhat ominous name, a serene spot to spend a summer. We walked for a while without saying a word. I suspected she was letting me lead the conversation, but then again, Bella wasn't one for conversation.

She prefered to observe, to listen. We first met when she was ten, on All Hallow's Eve. She said nothing, sat in Jo's wicker hanging chair on the porch with her face in her hands, watching the festivities, her eyes were wide and haunting. I liked her then and there, I guess one could say she bewitched me. Her reluctance to talk only made me more curious about Cecilia's found-again daughter.

She was older now, almost fourteen - a young lady more than a child, if she ever was one. She still had moments where she'd clam up and refuse to speak, but they were rare these days. She could be tart-tongued and sarcastic if pushed, but most of the words from her lips were sweet, reserved, and innocent.

"Bella," I started, clearing my throat. "I saw you this morning, in the woods."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answered calmly, without betraying herself. I almost believed her.

"Yes, you do. I _saw_ you."

I hadn't been able to sleep after the night we spent in their tent. I could still hear the melody her fingers drew from Nik's old guitar and the lyrics her and Lila sang in perfect harmony floating around my head. My mom and uncles had gone to bed, and Nate was lying in the hammock hanging between two towering red pines, sleeping. It was 3:00 in the morning when I heard the voices. I couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but in the stillness of early morning they were enough to get my attention. I got up and followed.

It felt like I walked for miles in darkness and then, in the space between trees, I saw her - pale as the moon, her black cat on the ground hissing like a snake, and a man with his hands on Bella's arms. I was far enough to be hidden, but close enough to hear him. His voice was sharp, cold, and though I couldn't see his face, I imagined it was twisted with anger and desperation. My instinct was to protect her; I had almost ran to her, but then she…moved him. I didn't see how, but in my heart I knew.

Magic.

In world slowly being leeched of magic, evidence of it was rare. Even in the old days, the woman of her family were infamous for potent gifts and powers that surpassed us all. Through the years as other families fell to watered down thimbles of magic or none at all, hers remained strong. Her aunts and mother had been powerful witches before they were murdered. We had all assumed that their children, or what was left of their children: Dana, Viola, Lila, and Bella, were like all of us, with vague inclinations of power that never materialized and unexplained feelings. The weak ones were always spared. We were wrong.

"_Good," the man had growled, laughing gruffly. "Very good, little one…That is the witch I know."_

"_But __**how**_ _do you know me? I don't know you."_

"_Now is not the time. You must remember what I have told you, dear. Remember it, watch and wait; the signs will be there. Be careful who you trust."_

Bella gasped beside me and grabbed my arm. Her eyes were swimming with fear, and where our skin touched, I felt a zap, like a static shock, only much sharper, stronger.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded, pulling my arm back and away from her.

Yoga had brought peace to her features, but that was all gone now. Her brows knitted together, and her lips trembled as she spoke. "I'm sorry…please…d-don't tell anyone. I-It was an accident."

"Hey, honey," I smiled and held out my arm for her inspection, hoping that once she saw that I wasn't injured, she'd stop tearing up, stop apologizing. "I'm fine, no harm no foul. What was that though? It felt…strong."

_I knew she different; I knew she wasn't like the rest of us! _

Instead of stopping the tears, I made them worse somehow. Fat tears fell from her dark lashes and rolled down her face, wetting her shirt. I moved to touch her, wipe them from her flushed cheeks, but she took a step back. First one, then another, distancing herself from me.

"Please don't tell anyone. Noah, please," she begged.

"Bella…what's going on? Who was that man?" I couldn't understand what was wrong, why she was begging me to keep her secret. What was the big deal?

"Of course you don't understand! How could you possibly understand? You don't know what it's like…none of you do!" she shouted, breathing hard, scrubbing the tears away with the back of her hand. For no reason at all, I felt frustrated, scared and hurt. I shook my head; it was damn confusing. "Please, Noah, don't say anything about what you saw. Or what I did."

"Wait, how did you do that? I didn't…didn't say that! I…" My thoughts were dulled, scattered. Thoughts...

_Thoughts!_

Shit.

It dawned on me then, the more I turned it over in my head the more sense it made. She heard me think it. She was answering my thoughts. Like Jo. Like her mom. Like those before her. One look at her, and I knew I was right. She heard me; that wasn't normal. It wasn't common, not these days.

The air rippled, and I felt a surge of anger pierce through my heart like a knife, before my own disbelief and shock came back.

"That was you," I breathed, putting one hand to my heart-it was racing. The stories were true then. I gaped at her, a few feet away, hands fisted at her sides, lashes wet and eyes hard as stones. "You _heard_...me."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head.

"These are your emotions, not mine."

"No," she insisted.

"Yes!" I returned, with conviction."Holy shit, you can actually…Wow! What else can you do? Do you know what this means, Bella?" I rushed over to her, and this time she didn't retreat. Lifting her hand to my face, I held it there, enjoying the tingle her fingers left on my skin. "What can you see? Can you show me things? The stories, they're all true."

"Noah, stop."

"We need to tell everyone. Bella!"

"No!" Angrily she ripped her hand out of my grasp. The shock that she gave me that time was painful, and left a red mark across my forearm. "I'm not some circus freak in a side show. I don't want them ogling at me, poking and prodding to see what little Bella can do." In a much smaller voice she said, "I'm not different; I'm just like all of you. I fit here."

I felt like an ass then. We all knew what it felt like to be outsiders. People instinctually shied away from us, whether for self-preservation or a deeply ingrained prejudice, I couldn't be sure. Some were openly hateful. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be an outsider with your own kind.

"I fit here, Noah." Her voice was convincing, but I couldn't tell who she was trying to convince. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her to my chest, inhaling the soft scent of Nag Champa in her hair.

"Honey, I didn't mean it that way. You are different than us, but that's not a bad thing. Think about it, this changes so many things!"

"Are you stupid or naive?" she spat, shoving my chest hard. The irony of a thirteen year old calling me naive was too much. I opened my mouth to argue, but she cut me off. "Think about it for a second! Take a look at the people we know and trust, the people here. Sure, they're like family _now_; we're a community _now, _but what do you think would happen if it was me or their children, their wives...husbands. If it was my life or theirs, who would they choose? Who would _you_ choose, Noah?"

_Be careful who you trust_, the man had told her, and I could see that she was already taking his warning to heart.

For a long time, she didn't say anything, she only watched me, her eyes sad and full of secrets. Her gaze went right through me, like an axe through wood as I let her words sink in. I wanted to argue with her, to tell her that she would be protected, but I knew better. History was on her side. When she spoke, I heard fear.

"No one can know. Please, Noah."

I nodded, promising to keep her secrets because I would do anything for her. _I would choose you, Bella_, I thought. She left me without a word.

xXXx

The rest of the day, while celebrations raged, I thought about the stories I grew up with: _Josephin and the Dark Man_, _The Half-Breed Hunters_, _Wailing Witch_, _The Vicar's son and The Witch_, _Aaron_, seeing them in a different light. They were true, really true. Of course we were brought up with a healthy belief in the mystical, in myth and lore-shit, we came from that ilk, every last one of us and myths were only just stories grown old, but...it was jarring to suddenly have walking, talking proof.

Night fell and fires broke out, logs were added to the roaring bonfire in the center of camp, and the smell of flowers, incense, and food mixed together sweetly. Nate was off with Lila, and I hadn't seen Bella rest of the day, though I suspected she joined the festivities. Dana and Vi floated around, like bees in a meadow, flowers in their hair, in thin white dresses that would have been virginal if they weren't so short. I avoided them, as Bella no doubt avoided me.

Closer to the bonfire, Nanna Cora sat with the children around her, the fire dancing and lighting their young faces as they learned their history. As they drank up a story about spirits battled on the solstice a hundred years ago and the woman that stood alone against the devil, I thought of Bella. The woman, Myra, was her family, generations and generations in the past, but there was a likeness there. She, too, was a rare one, a child born of war and strengthened by pain.

I knew of Bella's past. We all knew of her mother and the family that was taken from her. My dad and her's were friends - so close they were that they named one of their sons after each other. I had played with her brothers - George, Nate, and I were close in age. Then there were the aunts and uncles, the cousins... We all lost people, loved ones, friends, family. So much pain...and death.

How much more would come? I asked myself.

I looked around at the people, our people, laughing and enjoying themselves, only truly free among friends. _What would they do to be spared, to live?_ The thought came to me unbidden, a product of Bella's questions. Once the doubt took root, I couldn't pull it out and every face was given a second look.

Almost eight years had passed since the Silent War, as we all called it. It died as quickly as it had started, but I wasn't fooled by the peace, by the lull. Something was brewing. I could feel it in my bones.

There was a time when our kind didn't hide, when we weren't demonized. That was before the Purge, before our women were hunted and burned and tortured, before the trials, before the half-breed hunters. Bella could change it all.

"The girls are going to start any moment," Nate said, dragging my thoughts away from the melancholy. "Lila says they wrote a song together. I can't wait to hear it, maybe later we can play with them."

My brother was usually on the quiet side, but tonight he was in rare form. Lila did that to him, even when we were all kids she brought his emotions and thoughts to the surface for some much needed air. She made him bold. He made her optimistic.

"Sounds like a plan. Have a good time with Lila, did we?"

His face turned red, and a shy but pleased smile spread across his narrow face. "It's only been a couple of months since I saw her, but...I like being around her."

"Yeah, I can see that," I laughed and clapped him on the back. "Let's go, before you start to go through withdrawls."

"Like you're any better. I see the way you look at Bella."

I said nothing but smiled all the same.

Friends had already started to gather around the red tent where Nik had thrown up a low stage. Jo sat in the front on a log with my mom on one side and Joan, Soleil's mom, on the other, smiling lovingly as Nik held his violin to his chin. _Without wood, the fire would die,_ I'd once heard my mother say about Jo and Nik, _and their fire will burn forever._ It was easy to see why. While he played some wild gypsy tune, I looked for Bella in the crowd of painted faces and crowned heads. Friends smiled back at me, but not her, and then, standing off to the side, leaning against the redwood, I saw her.

She was wearing a halter top with long multi colored tails of yarn worked at the hem, that left her back and scar on display without an ounce of shame. A skirt, soft and green, was wrapped around her hips and grazed her ankles. Her hair looked wild, wavier than I had ever seen it, braided in places and threaded with white flowers. The warmth of the fire and the day had left her skin flush and pink where the sun had kissed it. She looked like a different girl to me, still beautiful, but in an unearthly way. Maybe it was what I had learned, what I now knew about her.

How did she do it? I wondered to myself. Smile and act like everything was fine when really she was bubbling up with power from the top of her head to her slim toes? How did she hear, see, and feel everything and not want to scream? I had only been in the know for a day and my mind was running away. How did she keep such a huge secret?

While her uncle's song climbed higher and higher, twisting and wailing, my eyes fell to her lips, pink and plump.

_Damn! What I wouldn't give to taste those lips again._

Her eyes cut to mine, hearing my thoughts no doubt. I smiled in her direction, wondering if she could turn it off or if she had always heard my thoughts.

_You can't hold them against me, honey_.

Her head shook in annoyance, but I saw a tiny smile playing in the corner of her mouth.

Lila and Bella walked up on the stage after Nik finished his song, each girl kissing their uncle before he hopped down. He joined his wife on the log and looked up at the girls with pride; he was their teacher, and his face said it all. I felt a prick of envy. Nik didn't father them, but he took them in, loved them as his own, which was more than I could say for my own dad.

"Umm...Bella and I wrote this together. Hope you enjoy it."

The guitar was old and too big for Bella, but the strap anchored it to her body. Lila stood beside her holding her mandolin, clad in a dress I imagine must have belonged to her mother, unearthed from some chest buried in the attics at home. Their fingers were poised over strings, eyes closed. Lila began first, plucking, strumming a progression of Em, G, D, Em. Bella followed, playing the same chords.

She opened her eyes and stared out at her crowd, her voice, though young, rang out from another decade, mythical and folky - like an enchanted Emmylou Harris. Her fingers moved, plucked, and strummed, over the same chords, slow and hypnotic.

_Now the pale morning sings of forgotten things _

_She plays a tune for those who wish to overlook_

_The fact that they've been blindly deceived _

_By those who preach and pray and teach _

_But she falls short and the night explodes in laughter_

Lila joined the verse, adding a deeper and throaty sound to the song, while the voice of her lute mated with the guitar's.

_But don't you come here and say I didn't warn you _

_About the way your world can alter _

_And oh how you try to command it all still _

_Every single time it all shifts one way or the other_

Together, the girls sang in sync in every way as they added a new C chord to the others. Their eyes slid closed at the same time, singing with conviction.

_And I'm a goddamn coward, but then again so are you _

_And the lion's roar, the lion's roar _

_Has me evading and hollering for you _

_And I never really knew what to do_

Again they plucked out the same chords that opened the song, stronger now, and braver.

_Well I guess sometimes I wish you were a little more predictable _

_That I could read you just like a book_

_For now I can only guess what's coming next _

_By examining your timid smile _

_And the ways of the old, old winds blowing you back 'round_

I smiled thinking of my brother, knowing which words belonged to which witch. That second verse was all Lila, and she sang it alone while Bella played, joining her at the chorus.

_And I'm a goddamn fool, but then again so are you _

_And the lion's roar, the lion's roar _

_Has me seeking out and searching for you _

_And I never really knew what to do_

My fingers itched for my guitar as I knew Nate's must have been aching for his banjo, as they played a strong and arresting bridge. Lila's chords chased Bella's, nipping at their heels until they blended seamlessly. I had the sudden urge to look around, to see if everyone else was as enchanted as I was. The crowd had grown, and the only sound that dared join the girls was that of the fire, cracking and spitting, which somehow seemed to be part of the song.

Lila's mandolin took the tune as Bella's fingers stilled, resting softly over the stings, her guitar falling silent. Her eyes opened and bore into mine, deep and brown and glowing in the light. I could feel desperation, longing...pain and love, and knew that they were hers. When she sang the words, I found myself asking who she wrote them words for. I knew they weren't for me.

_Sometimes I wish I could find my Rose Mary Hill _

_I'd sit there and look at the deserted lakes and I'd sing _

_And every once in awhile I'd sing a song for you _

_That would rise above the mountains and the stars and the sea _

_And if I waannt-ed it to it would lead you back to me_

The instruments softened almost to a whisper as their masters played them lightly. Again their voice joined, the high and low pitches woven in together like a melodic tapestry.

_And the lion's roar, the lion's roar _

_Is something that I have heard before _

_A children's tale, the lonesome wail _

_of a lion's roar_

I watched in stunned silence as they bowed their heads humbly, flushing with pleasure at the deafening applause and wolf whistles. Nanna Cora hobbled up on stage and kissed the girls, announcing that it was time to cast our wishes into the fire. The crowd moved then, dispersed and went off to gather around the bonfire in a flurry of muted tie-dye, paisley, denim, naked chests and flowers, both real and painted, bay leaves in hands and smiles on their faces. I followed, sort of numb to it all, as I realized for the first time with a painful pang that someone else had Bella's heart.

I wanted it. Mine was hers, completely.

Nanna Cora and the other elders were talking, chanting the old songs, but I didn't pay attention. Bodies swayed and moved, jostling me where I stood. Some shed their clothing and began dancing in lazy undulations. The heat of the fire washed over my face as I took out my leaf from my pocket. Bella's name was written on it - she was my wish. The flames threw it into relief, shadows danced and played, swallowing her name one moment then giving it back the next. I wondered if this was some sort of omen.

Across the bonfire, I found her. She stood with her cousins, eyes downcast at the leaf in her hand. As I watched she brought it to her lips, kissing it like I had kissed her once, and threw into the fire. When she looked up, our eyes met, though hers were clouded and far away.

_Whose name was written on that waxy green surface? What did she wish for so desperately? _

"She isn't meant for you, Noah," an unmistakable voice whispered behind me, low and raspy. I turned and there was the sympathy again. Jo laid a comforting hand on my arm; I twitched in response. "You'll only find rejection on that path. I'd tell you not to go down it, but..."

_The stories are true_, I thought. Jealousy rose in my throat, thick and bitter, and I jerked away from Jo's hand. I was already halfway down that path; it was too late to turn back now, and she knew it. I looked down at the leaf again, her name bold and black against the green, and tossed it into the fire with conviction.

"Stories can be rewritten."

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**** Till next time...  
><strong>

**XX  
>Autumn<strong>


	11. Half Truths

**A/N: Hello again! I'm going to keep it short and simple, Thank you from here to the moon for continuing to read and for your lovely words. It means so much to know that somewhere someone is enjoying. A special thanks to my wonderful beta, polisher and advice giver, Nachos4Children! You are one in a million, honey.**

**Disclaimer: SM owns all things twilight!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"She looked so sad-I wish there was something I could do for her."-Lazybones, 1925<p>

Jo's POV

_"Stories can be rewritten."_

I took a long look at Noah standing in front of me, orange light casting his handsome face in deep shadows. I had known him since he was a little boy, mischievous and free, driving Juliana up the wall with his guitar and harmonica. He was still just a boy - blue-eyed and foolish. He liked bugs, music, and being outdoors; now his head ran rampant with dreams of a future that would never be. Could never be. Bella was all he wanted, innocently enough now, but not so much later.

Without a word, he stalked into the darkness of the forest.

_Poor boy_, I thought as I watched his plaid shirt retreat into the darkness.

Around me the celebration continued, unaware of Noah's absence and pain under the stars that winked from the dark face of the sky. Heat billowed from the bonfire, snapping and sizzling with each new wish. My girls were scattered, roaming, dancing, playing as they pleased, letting go of the weight they carried around from day to day. Even Bella, my little Bella, who seemed much heavier as of late.

They were growing up, all of them. Nothing I could do would stop it.

Old words danced, woven together in the resonant voices of the old and young. Notes swirled in the air, strung together like a necklace, warm and familiar. The song was mine, I'd know it anywhere. In the sea of bodies, limbs, and flowers, flames licking logs and embers glowing hot, I caught sight of my husband standing tall amongst his fellow musicians. His head was bent over his instrument and dark hair tumbled over his eyebrows. He was calling me, I smiled and made my way over to him.

Music danced in his head always, flowed from his fingers when he touched his instruments, the guitar, the violin, me. _Music is love_, he told me once, _I make music for you because you are my love._ It was as true now as it was when I was sixteen.

He lifted his head, found me, and grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with true affection.

I could feel the cares slip away - the heartbroken look in Noah's eyes and the murky cloud of Bella's thoughts - as the thin material of my dress slipped down my legs. I'd pick the worries up tomorrow; tonight, I was going to celebrate.

xXXx

"She's hiding something from me," I commented to Nik the moment the girls left the tent. He lifted one shoulder and went about drying the breakfast dishes. "Noah knows," I continued, watching him carefully. "Whether she told him or he found out on his own, I haven't been able to find out."

"Don't all teenagers keep secrets?"

"Yes, but they can't usually keep them from me. Bella has never been able to keep me out so perfectly. Now... she's a fortress. It's like she's purposely keeping it from me."

His hands stopped moving, the rag dropped into the water bucket and the cup was placed on the table. Slowly and deliberately, he lifted his dark eyes to mine with a glance I knew all too well. He disapproved. "Aren't you being a bit hypocritical, considering all the secrets you're keeping from her?"

"Nik, not again."

"Secrets are secrets, no matter why they're kept, and maybe, my dear, this one is none of your business." He arched his brows, thinking of Noah and Bella, together.

I shook my head and spread my hands out in front of me. "No, Nikky, that's not it. No, it's something more…serious."

_If it is, she'll tell you in time._

"I know, but I'm not so sure she'll come to me. She is getting to that age. You know the one." He nodded, taking up the cup and rag, murmuring about our Dana and Vi, how they had gone from our sweet little witches to irritable banshee overnight. Teenagers. I laughed. "Lila isn't as bad, but she has her moments. Bella...my sweet girl, she will have a rough time of it."

"Perhaps not, süßling."

"She will rebel in other ways. I wish I understood her better." Hearing her thoughts was a far cry from understand the person behind them. "She seems happy, and she loves us, but..."

"Something - or someone - is missing," Nik finished for me, recalling moments during their time together where her mind would wander and her eyes would search for something she couldn't see.

"Yes."

She didn't feel whole, nor could she explain why. Total happiness and peace were always just out of reach, an inch away. That inch was bothering her more and more every day. I wanted to find that piece for her, to just hand it over and watch as everything fell into place, but it was her journey and it was too soon.

_It was too soon._

"She has a old soul," I nodded, distracted, thinking. "Curious as well."

We both fell silent, only the dishes, the rage and water spoke.

"You're worried. Usually, you're more at peace with these things."

"I try - I am trying to be. It's harder now. All she wants is to understand, and when I don't help her she gets angry." My shoulders sagged with the weight of denying her answers, keeping her in the dark. "I don't blame her - she has every reason to question me, every reason to distrust me, especially now that she's met Eva. All she needs is a little push, and…"

I'd lose her if I wasn't careful, like I lost Cilla. So many wasted years - years I couldn't get back.

My sisters and I were as close as sisters could be. The five of us loved each other more than words can ever express, but Cilla and I were the best of friends. There was nothing we didn't do together. My mother often said that our souls had been one and split between the two of us in this world. What she felt, I felt. What she thought, I heard. We fell in love at the same age. And when she had Bella, I could not love her any more than if she had come from me. The same could be said for Nikky.

As a baby, Bella had been comfortable with very few people, the same could be said of her now. She had cried her eyes out when my eldest sister Vivian held her. Squirmed liked a worm when Lori and Mae had tried to kiss her cheeks. But she had taken to Nik right away. Something about him soothed her, the music in his soul calmed her, even when she seemed to be feeling so much. The first year of her life they were inseparable. I had pictures of them together - her a tiny bundle in Nik's muscled arms. My strong and proud husband was reduced to mush by her gurgles and heartbroken when Cilla took her away.

Even now, after so many years apart, they were close.

"This situation is very different from that one, Jo," Nik told me, soft and comforting as a whisper. Sometimes I wondered if he could read my mind as I could read his. "It's not magic, it's marriage and love. What did Eva say?"

"She offered her everything I haven't: answers." His lips pressed together, but he said nothing and kept drying the cups. I knew how he felt about fortune tellers. "She mentioned Carlisle."

The cup slipped from his hands and into the bucket with a splash. "By name or…"

"Bella saw his face in her head, among other things." He cursed in German, low and fierce. "He is everywhere; she dreams of him, misses him so much it hurts, even if she doesn't realize it's him she's hurting for. I don't know how long I can pretend to be ignorant of him."

"I can't imagine how hard it must be."

I arched a brow at him. "For me or for her?"

_For the both of you...but… _He frowned, his thick dark eyebrows knitted together. Nik loved all the girls equally. Like a good father, he had no favorites, but he had a soft spot in his heart for Bella.

"Jo," my husband started, grabbing my hand in his calloused, wet ones. "I know that she's too young for the truth, that she needs to find it on her own, but don't let her go on like this. You heard her last night...It's not right."

"Nikolaus."

"It's cruel," he said with an air of finality, his dark eyes pleading. "How would you feel if you lost me the same way?" The grip of his hand tightened. "And were then forced to live with the empty place where I lived, not knowing if it had been real or a dream?"

They bore into mine, his eyes, hot and serious and full of unshed tears.

"It would be agony." Some of my resolve melted; my heart, his in every way, seized at the thought. I laid my palm on his cheek. "She's thirteen. She can't understand that type of pain, my love."

He clicked his tongue and kissed the corner of my mouth. "We both know that isn't true."

xXXx

We finished the rest of the dishes in silence, and when the last cup was stored in the Vardo, I left the comfort of our tent and my husband in search of Bella. Outside, Lila and Nate were in the hammock reading, swinging between two trees in the soft breeze. Laid out on the hood of their RV was Noah, staring at a book unseeingly. The camp that just yesterday had been teaming with vibrancy was quiet, empty, save for us and bathed in a golden mid-morning light.

"Vi and Dana decided to go swimming with the Ellis clan," Lila informed me, looking up from her book briefly. Nate smiled in greeting and turned the page.

"And Bella didn't join them?" She loved swimming.

Lila's eyes flicked in Noah's direction before answering. "She wanted to be alone." Hearing this, and perhaps the tone of amusement in her voice, he slid off the car and walked towards the lake, leaving his book behind. "Good! Go for a walk - maybe the stick lodged in your ass will fall out!" Lila shouted after him.

"That wasn't very nice."

"Jo, he's been in a mood, muttering under his breath and frying eggs." She smacked her lips together, imitating the sound eggs made in hot oil. "Since breakfast! I almost threw a spoonful of Kamut at him."

A faint smile graced Nate's lips, imagining his twin covered in hot cereal and berries, before he hid that smile in her hair.

I smiled indulgently, both at her fire and the display of affection between them - young love, fresh and magical. Just as I turned to leave the couple in the hammock to their cuddling, Lila told me that Bella had taken Nik's guitar and Carlisle into the woods. I nodded and went to find the youngest of my girls.

The woods here were deep green and lush with tall trees and bushes covered in bright red berries and devoid of man made trails. One made their own way, both in the forest and in life. Summer baked the air, hot and thick with the scents of pine, wood, and earth. Where the forest thinned, the mountain, Mount Ball, burst against the blue sky, white and grey at its peak, rust and green at its base.

It wasn't long 'til I found her, the tune of that old guitar pulling me forward. The melody in the trees gave her away, sitting in the shade of a huge oak. For a moment, I just watched as she played, taking full advantage of catching Bella rarely unaware. She wore a bright-yellow printed dress, one that had belonged to her mother at Bella's age, stored in the trunks in our attic, a relic from a bohemian age. Her eyes were closed, hair hanging loose, curly, and wild from an uneasy night of sleep. It wasn't a happy song per se, nor was it maudlin - a mirror of her mood perhaps? It reminded me of old folk songs, the ones that told tales of maidens and magic. Her thoughts, so often scattered in a million directions, were calm and centred around the strings, her fingers, and the notes. They came spontaneously from somewhere deep inside her.

Often times I forgot how much she looked like my dear sister; it was so very obvious in this moment. Even Cecilia's musical gifts had been imprinted on her.

What would _she_ do if she were in my place? Would she tell her? Give a relatively small comfort? Or would she be stronger?

Cilla had always been the strongest of us.

"That's a beautiful song - does it have any words?" I asked softly as the notes trailed off, coming to sit with her on the blanket.

When she opened her eyes, she actually looked surprised to see me. "Not yet...I was just playing, really." She draped her arm over Nik's guitar and rested her head on its neck.

"You should write some. It would be a shame to lose that melody." A curl of dark hair fell over her eyes and she brushed it back behind her ear, though it wasn't up to the task. I noticed then the absence of her feline shadow. "Where's Carlisle?"

"Around. He wandered off a bit ago." Hearing his name, the black cat sauntered out from behind a bush and slinked over to Bella, rested his head on her leg, and purred.

"You should be careful with him, there are bigger animals out here. He could get lost or hurt."

She nodded, but continued to look at me with her mother's eyes, deep, dark, and searching. The young girl had no idea how disarming it was, her stare. I hoped Cilla would forgive me for what I was about to do.

"We need to wash this thing," I commented, absently running my fingers over the raised diamond pattern of the green blanket beneath us, grasping for anything else to talk about.

"You're stalling," she said simply, after a moment.

I was. I should've known she'd see it. "You caught me," I sighed. "What do you remember from before your parents died?"

She flinched and took a deep and deliberate breath. _I'm not sure what's real and what isn't. _"Small things, like...mom's hands and dad's eyes."

I nodded, Nik's words still echoing in my mind.

"Did you know that we all used to live together?" Her eyes widened. "You guys weren't always so...nomadic. Your aunts had moved away by the time you came along, but Cilla and I, always planned on staying in Black Tree together. We were, well, we were a lot like you and Lila - the best of friends."

I smiled, opening myself to her a little more than I had, showing her a dozen or so memories of that life.

"Things changed of course, as they have a way of doing. Plans," I sighed, "the future is so fragile, infinite possibilities hinge on tiny decisions that lead to more decisions, the ripple of those decisions spreading out through the whole of time-which is why seeing the future is so difficult, so painful at times. Like you. You, my sweet were a surprise to us all, especially your parents. A daughter, born on summer's twilight, just before the fall."

The significance of my last sentence was lost her.

"Anyways, you were about one when she and I got into a terrible fight. We said things - things I never got to apologize for. It was the first time in our lives that we couldn't agree. I couldn't."

I could still remember the look in my sister's eyes when I told her she was making a mistake. She was scared for her daughter's life - we all were, but to strip the girl of her powers felt drastic, like a betrayal to our kind, to our family. To us.

"Nana Cora had just told us that you were in danger, and that we were as well. No one knew what to do. Your dad was frantic, as was Nik. But your mom, she thought only of your safety, of your happiness. She wanted to bleed you."

Her expression was one of confusion and horror, her thoughts dwelled on barbaric ceremonies of slashed virgins on stone tablets and blood flowing like a river, so I rushed to explain and made a note to be more mindful of the books she was reading. "It's not what you're thinking, no blade would've touched you. It's a spell - a complicated one - to bleed you of any and all magic."

"Why are you telling me this, Jo?" she whispered, more than a little hurt by what her mother had planned to do.

_She was scared, Bella. It was the only thing she could think of._

She didn't acknowledge the thought, but asked again why I was sharing this with her, and now.

"Because you're getting older. Because you needed to know in order to understand that there are things I want to tell you, but can't." She opened her mouth to argue, but I held up my hand. "I can't. Your mom and I made a promise to each other: she wouldn't bleed you, and when she died - because she knew she would - I would take you in, protect you, teach you, and when the time-"

"You never said _why _I was, am in danger, but you know."

"She bound me to my promise, promise is binding and touches everything and everyone that can answer that question before you're suppose to know. You'll find that your mom thought of everything."

She was silent, both her mind and her mouth. Moments passed while I waited for her say something. When she didn't, I reached over and lifted her face so that I could look her in the eyes. They were unfathomable, their secrets and emotions hidden so perfectly I wondered where my darling witch had learn such control so quickly.

"I cannot tell you everything, answer every question, and I know that it must be frustrating to you, but...I _can_ give someone back to you."

Carlisle. I saw my sister's hand in how little of him was left of the surface of Bella's mind. All that she had was a face. I had never met this man, but I had heard stories, all of my life. The moment Charlie opened that door, Bella just behind him, I saw the infamous Carlisle swirling in her thoughts. I saw that face time and time again in her dreams and the memories that lay hidden, forgotten, fragmented.

One by one, I gave them back to her, pulled them to the surface; him reading to her in the company of bluebells, playing hide and seek, holding her. They weren't very much, murky little snatches of moments a child holds on to, but it seemed to be enough for her.

Beside me, my little witch's eyes filled with tears, and a surge of joy radiated from her.

"Who was he to me?"

I hesitated for a moment - it was on the tip of my tongue, and then I couldn't remember what I had been on the verge of telling her.

Cilla's magic held.

"He was your friend," I answered softly caressing her cheek.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading and hope you come back for more!**

**XX**

**Autumn**


	12. High School Hazards

**A/N: Hello! Here is the next chapter...hope that you all enjoy it. A special thanks to Project Team Beta for the help!  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters do not belong to me. This plot and the characters it presents do belong to me.  
><strong>

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><p><em>"You know, you're awfully dumb." - My Best Girl, 1927<em>

BPOV

Autumn came fast in Maine. The trees were a kaleidoscope of dark greens, reds, oranges, and yellows. Leaves littered the grass, and every so often, a gust of wind would catch a bit of foliage in it's arms and together they would dance in midair. My teacher, Mr. Harris, droned on about something or other in the background. I wasn't paying attention. Instead, I watched the symphony of tree debris swirl lazily, my chin digging deeper into my palm as the minutes ticked loudly from the clock on the back wall.

How long till school let out? _Too long_. It was only second period, and already, I could tell today was going to be a long day.

I sighed quietly, looking away from the window for a moment to see what the class was doing. Mr. Harris must have told us to get out our book because everyone was digging around their backpacks for them. I did the same and placed mine on the faded and defaced desk.

Pushing his glasses up his long and shiny nose, Mr. Harris instructed us to turn to page 280 and scanned the seating chart for his first victim. My classmates shrunk down in their seats, slouching, and trying to make themselves as small as possible. No one liked reading in class, especially _this _class. Mr. Harris was a tyrant, armed with a dry erase marker that he threw at students who didn't read loud enough, well enough, fast enough or a combination of the three. He also had the rude habit of over-pronouncing syllables in certain words while the reader read them.

His magnified eyes locked on Susan, a nervous girl by nature, and smiled. "You, read." She looked ready to vomit; her chair creaked as she fidgeted but started reading in a low, quivering voice. Mr. Harris frowned, impatient, and said,"Louder."

Susan's shoulders jerked and she started again, louder this time. "'A small upper bedroom in the home of Reverend Samuel Parris, Salem, Massachusetts, in the spring of the year 1692.'"

I rolled my eyes; _The Crucible. _

Mr. Harris nodded, satisfied with the volume, and said MASS-A-CHU-SETTS in such a ridiculous way that even Leonard, the class kiss ass, snickered. I ignored them and turned back to my window. Outside, the wind howled, stripping boughs and exposing naked limbs. My mind wandered, and it was no surprise where it wandered to-Shadow Lake, back to summer.

Lately, all my thoughts ended up there, circling around everything Jo told me and that hooded man.

I had been terrified when he grabbed me. I knew that kind of speed, but where their eyes had always been golden and warm, his were red. The color hinted to something darker than I cared to explore at the time but now, I couldn't stop thinking about it. He had been angry, I felt it, but there was something else underneath. Affection? Duty? I couldn't be sure. His thoughts had been fuzzy and scattered, like a flurry of static on a broken television set. The only clear picture was me, or really, my face, but it wasn't really _my f_ace. I looked different, older, sad... broken. He warned me that _they _would come for me. "Watch for the signs,"he had said ,gripping my shoulders. "Wait and trust few."

_Blood Moon. _

_A dying sun. _

_Dhampir__. _

_Burning veins. _

I kept them to myself for as long as could, these signs, wondering who these people were. When I finally told Jo, she said nothing, but her face fell and that day Nanna Cora was at our door. The first full moon after the harvest was often called a Blood Moon, I had read. It was an omen of death among our kind, but I reasoned that it could mean anything; these signs were so vague and obscure. Though, the very idea of burning veins made me cringe. I waited, paid attention and watched all summer, without knowing what I was looking for. Jo believed that I'd know, instinctively, when a sign presented itself. I wasn't so sure. Everything in my life seemed to be written in riddles. Couldn't, just once, something be explained in plain English? Like; _Hey, these people are coming for you on the eighth of May. Nice knowing ya. _

Things were never that clear.

And it was October. Weren't warnings typically about things a little more imminent?

_Isabella._

The voice intruded, putting a stop to the circles I was thinking in, and I sat up straighter. I could hear my name being said angrily, and I wondered if it was that hooded man again. I never did get his name. My eyes flicked to the patch of grass where I had been watching the leaves and found it empty.

_Isabella!_

It was getting louder.

Something hit the side of my face, and it took me a few minutes to realize that it was a marker.

"Isabella!" Mr. Harris shouted, suddenly standing by my desk, red-faced with his glasses slipping off his nose. I scrunched up mine; his aftershave was noxious, and he always wore too much. "Have you been paying attention? No, you haven't! Don't think of lying to me. If you had been paying attention, you would have heard me call you four times!"

"Sorry." I leaned over and picked up the marker from where it had rolled after its collision with my face.

He hemmed and waddled back to his desk. "We need an Abigail." He smiled. "And I was thinking you'd be PER-FECT for the part, now that you're back from communing with the spirits."

The class laughed, and I glared at my teacher, whose head was swirling with images of me in 17th century puritan grab. His mocking tone was insulting enough but... Abigail? She was an orphan, conniving and wicked down to the bone marrow. She slept with a married man and, fleetingly, he wondered if I would as well.

_They're all the same, those women. Devil worshiping whores, every one, _he thought loudly.

I was tempted to push back his chair as he sat down but let him sit, unharmed, squeezing the marker to redirect some of my anger. Really, it was of little use being good, behaving and ignoring temptation. Mr. Harris had made up his mind about me long before I ever walked into his classroom, and nothing would change it. He hated us all. Jo insisted it wasn't hate, though it felt a lot like hate to me. I showed restraint because it was what was expected of me, out of all of us. It was never easy, especially living amongst such idiots.

Most of the time the "normal" citizens gave us a wide berth, crossed the street if we happened to be walking in their direction, chose seats in class furthest away, and avoided any contact, but these fall months brought out the worst in them. Soon, a stone would be thrown, a prank pulled on one us, a name called... perhaps several. It was the same, every year.

"Well? Begin, Isabella." He pronounced my name IS-A-BELL-A, slowly, as if I was a dimwitted child eating paste.

_Stupid witch bitch. _

The voice drew my attention and eyes from the fat, middle-aged man to the first desk in the first row; Leonard Conrad. His expression was cocky, pleased with his "clever" bit of rhyming. Temptation flared again and this time I didn't resist. Leonard yelped loudly. Immediately, his eyes flicked to mine, accusingly, mouth hanging open like a fish out of water, right hand pressed to his reddened cheek.

"You stupid witch bitch!" He lashed out as soon as his shock receded. "She... she slapped me!"

He was right, but I said nothing and stared at him blandly, enjoying the looks of lunacy my accuser was getting.

"Bitch!"

I flinched at the shrillness of his voice; puberty wasn't kind to him. And the word-bitch was such a degrading word.

I frowned and shook my head. "You shouldn't talk about your mom that way, Leonard."

The tips of his ears went white and the class erupted in laughter. Mr. Harris rose from his desk, flustered and shouting ,"SET-TLE down ,class! E-NOUGH. IS-A-BELL-A, principal's office now!"

I gathered my things and took the blue slip from Mr. Harris' meaty hand. Under "reason(s) for being sent to the principal's office,"it read: Disrupting Class, Disrespectful and Witchcraft.

_Idiot._On my way out, I smiled sweetly at Leonard, who shrank back in his chair. All the way down the hall, I could hear him complaining about being itchy, so terribly itchy.

When I got to the main office - a depressing beige room filled with all the things high school offices were filled with: mailboxes, flag poles, receptionists and stuffy air- Vi was sitting in one of the lemon yellow chairs. Mrs. Hill gave us both a disapproving look and motioned for me to sit with a sharp jerk of her chin.

Vi looked up at me but didn't say a word. I could feel the anger pouring off her, but knowing my cousin, I didn't ask.

Out of all of us, Viola was the one who rebelled against what she was-what we all were-the most. She wanted to be normal, and I could sympathize with her, most days, but what was normal, really? Where was _that _definition? She also happened to be the only one of my cousins to dislike me on sight. I could never find the reason, as hard as I tired. The deeper I dug, the deeper she buried it, the tighter she held on. She didn't talk to me for weeks when I first got to Maine and started a rumor at school with her little friends that I was crazy, and had gotten locked up in loony bin for killing some girl. It was accidental, of course, she had assured them, but that didn't change a how people saw me. Needless to say, it was hard to develop a sisterly bond with her after that. Blood, and blood alone kept her tied to me.

"The only history these people," she sneered, "subscribe to is the one they write down. It's the blind leading the blind around here."

"Tell me about it," I responded, sitting next to her. Double glass doors led to the outside world, to freedom, and I considered, for a moment, walking through them. I decided against it in the end, it was too early. Crossing my legs, I traced the crochet pattern of my dress, my red tights contrasting vividly as they popped through the open weave where the underlay and scalloped hem failed to meet.

"Forget ever trying to correct them. No, do that and you're marched to the office like a criminal." Classically over-dramatic, she envisioned herself as a stoic and composed Marie Antoinette, being escorted to the guillotine.

"Using profanity, multiple times, in the classroom seems to be okay though."

She arched a perfectly plucked brow. "Who was it this time?" I told her, and she cursed under her breath, drawing the judgmental eyes of the receptionist.

"The Conrads are such douche bags."

Too bad the Conrads ran the town.

"I hate this place. Can't wait till I can get the hell away from here."

I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and nodded. "Me too."

She held out her hand for my slip, and I handed it over without a thought. "He actually wrote 'witchcraft'. What a tit. Dana was in here earlier for laughing at Coach Carson."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Apparently he tripped and she laughed, which obviously means she _made _him fall."

"Obviously," I supplied with a shrug.

It was a standing tradition to lay blame on our doorstep whenever some minor or major misfortune befell the good people of Black Tree. No one knew anything for sure, and no one could remember when exactly they began to fear us. One of my great, great, great aunts must have done something scandalous. But after three hundred years, it was easier to follow the previous generations in their prejudices. They suspected, gossiped over white picket fences and told their children to stay away from us, _lest they be snatched up and eaten_.

Witches made good scapegoats and villains in precautionary tales.

The door separating Principal Richards' office opened then, and out poured the stench of cannabis and unwashed hair. Chris Hardwick stumbled out of the office, his eyes red and glazed. When he caught sight of us, a lazy smile raised two deep dimples in his cheeks and his heart kicked into overtime. In his ganja-induced stupor, he saw the world in vivid hallucinations. The walls were vibrating. The bulletin board, laden with flyers behind us, was a riot of quivering color. Vi and I looked radiant, our eyes shimmering, and around us there was a halo of gold and blue light.

"Wicked, beautiful ladies."

"Not if hell froze over," Vi snapped, glaring at the boy.

The principal addressed us with a wan smile, explaining that he'd be with us in a minute, then began giving instructions to Mrs. Hill on how to get Chris home. He was stoned off his ass and couldn't be trusted to drive. When he finished, he ushered us into his office and shut the door. Before uttering another word, he walked to the windows and propped all four open to let the pungently sweet odor out.

"All I need now is Lila sitting out there to have the complete set," he said, taking his seat. "Hand them over, ladies."

We surrendered our blue slips. He read each slip carefully, his light green eyes growing sharper with each word. A crease formed in between his thick brows; an expression he must have done often because his skin remembered the folds well. His lips silently mouthed the word _witchcraft _before turning down in a disappointed frown.

"There are always two sides of a story," he said finally, steepling his hands in front of his mouth. "Which one of you would like to go first?"

Mr. Richards was a fair man, had always had been, from what I gathered, and he paid little attention to town gossip or our infamy. He went to school with our mothers, grew up a stone throw's away from our house (in a house that was torn down right before he started high school because of it's proximity to us),so he was familiar with what people said. He believed, much as he did when he was a kid, that we were just like everyone else, albeit a bit strange, but saw no reason why this strangeness was a bad thing.

Vi spoke first, and her explanation was riddled with anger that had yet to cool. Her teacher, an old crone by the name of Mrs. Kraus, had been preaching the many righteous attributes of 16th century witch hunters and their methods. Vi had exploded and I didn't blame her, but her "defense" of our kind was surprising, and frankly, rare. At school, she always detached herself from anything remotely..._witchy_. I did my best to calm her down, and when she was finished, she shot me a grateful look and a reluctant smile.

It was more than she ever gave me.

"I'm sorry, Viola," Mr. Richards soothed, swallowing hard and picking up the pink pad tossed on his messy desk. "Unfortunately, I have to give you detention for calling Mrs. Kraus a," his eyes flicked down to the blue slip in his hand and quoted, "'Ignorant zealot with shit for brains.' I understand how her remarks could have angered you, however, she is still your teacher, and you need to respect her."

With the rip of the perforated detention slip, he dismissed Vi, and she went sullenly. He turned to me and took a deep breath. In his thoughts, he could not help but note how much I resembled my mother, and somewhat begrudgingly how I had my father's imposing presence. I learned then and there that he had, briefly, been my mother's boyfriend. It had been an adolescent infatuation on both sides broken up by his parents. When my dad moved to Black Tree, my mom forgot about him and his grape soda-flavored kisses.

It was disorienting, seeing the past and the future he vaguely imagined... a little disturbing too.

"I have all of Jo's girls under one roof this year. Time flies," he commented lightly, looking down at my slip. "How do you like high school so far... Bella? You like being called Bella, right?"

I nodded, "It's... ok."

I had been a freshmen for a month, and I hated it. The school work wasn't hard; I liked to learn. I hated everything that came with school. At least no one had written on my locker, yet.

"I've been in this game long enough to know that 'ok' is teenage code for 'I hate it here.' What happened in class today?"

I explained, truthfully, that I hadn't been paying attention, how Mr. Harris had thrown a marker at me and mocked me and implied that I was this town's Abigail Williams. His eyes widened when I told him that Mr. Harris had written up my slip before I had even said a word to Leonard Conrad, who had insulted me twice without any kind of reprimand. I ignored the accusation of witchcraft, because, as far as Mr. Harris knew, I was only guilty of daydreaming and glaring at him.

"What did Leonard Conrad call you, Bella?"

"A bad word."

"Which one?" He looked up from his notepad and fixed his eyes on mine. "What exactly did he call you?"

"A stupid witch bitch," I said without hesitation.

It was unfortunate that those two words rhymed. There was even a little song the kids sang to us.

_You_'_re a witch_

_You_'_re a bitch_

_Burn the witch_

_Hang the bitch_

Mr. Richards recalled a time when those same hurtful words had been hurled at my mother in grade school and shook his head.

"It would seem to me that Mr. Conrad should be in here and not you. Mr. Harris has complained about you quite a lot. Any idea why?"

I shrugged,and he turned to his computer, clicking and typing away until he found whatever he was looking for. "You're a bright girl. Your grades have always been excellent. You do your work and show up to class, even if you don't join class discussions. No other teachers have complained about you, nor have they raved. Mr. Harris is the only one. Amidst the ridiculous complaints in such a short amount of time, only one stands out to me. Why do you have a such hard time paying attention in his class? Honestly."

I debated on how to phrase my answer. Mr. Harris was condescending and rude, a terrible combination alone, but his intelligence made the man a total nightmare. Teaching freshmen AP Lit wasn't what he had envisioned for himself. When he was my age, he dreamt of Harvard, lecture halls, corncob pipes and corduroy patches on his elbows. Bitter teachers were dangerous ones, and the man gave me the oddest feeling, as if with each shrewd glance he was watching, waiting for the first chance to lash me to a stake and light the match.

I settled with the easiest answer. "I already know what he's going over."

"The work is too easy for you." He typed some more and scanned his screen. Through his eyes, I could see that he had pulled up Mrs. Beevers' class and wondered who she was. "In my experience, when smart students fail to pay attention it means that he or she isn't being challenged enough. Do you agree?" I nodded, and he frowned. "You don't say much do you?"

"Only as much as I have to."

He wasn't sure if what I'd said was a joke or not. When he realized that I was serious, his thoughts and eyes shifted. My school records from Forks were open on his computer. Why he bothered to look at first and second grade reports was beyond me, but when he scanned the notes at the bottom of the document, I understood. Every incident was recorded. My teachers had expressed their concern and recommended a psychosocial evaluation, attributing my silence to an unresolved traumatic experience. Mr. Richards knew what that traumatic experience was.

_She was only six. _he thought, remembering my father pushing my stroller around town. I cleared my throat, uncomfortable with what he planned to say next. I didn't want to talk to him. He was a decent guy, but there was no need to get any closer.

Sensing my discomfort, he changed his mind and grabbed a white pad and began scribbling as he spoke. "I'm putting you in 10th grade Lit. It's not an AP class but it is a challenging one, and the only lit class this period. I don't want to shift your whole schedule. Mrs. Beevers is a great teacher and... How can I put this..." He conjured an image of her; curly wild head of brown hair, flowy dresses and tribal printed coats that smelled of pine needles and patchouli. "She didn't grow up around here and keeps an open mind."

Just as my cousin had done, I took the slips he offered, both the blue and the white, and gathered my bag. As I was about to leave, Mr. Richards spoke.

"Isabella."

"Yeah?" I turned, my hand still on the door knob, wondering what had prompted the formal use of my name when he knew I preferred Bella.

_If you ever need to talk, I_'_ll listen. _"Stay out of trouble, ok?"

I watched as his cheeks flushed, and he awkwardly straightened the papers on his desk before nodding.

"Ok."

By lunch, the whole campus was buzzing, Vi's old rumor dusted off and recirculated. News of what I had "done" to Leonard was served up with embellishments and a sizable serving of gelatinous gravy, boxed mashed potatoes and petrified chicken fried steak. Dana and Vi sat at their usual table, but the swarm of boys and girls buzzing around them was visibly thin. From across the cafeteria, Vi was inadvertently apologizing to me, for small things and big ones, stabbing her food with a plastic fork as a boy talked to her about some dance that was coming up. When our eyes met, she looked away and started talking to Dana, who seemed a bit downcast by the lack of attention, from both the male and female population of the student body.

"Heard you were in Richards' office second period," Lila commented, unpacking her lunch. "Did you really give it to Conrad?"

"Yes." She had been there right after me, for arguing with a teacher who hated to be contradicted. "It wasn't an accident either."

"Shit! I wish I could've seen the look on his face. He's a douche, always has been." In her head, she relived the day Leonard Conrad dumped a pail of water on us, hoping we would melt. "Still, Jo won't be happy, what with all of us getting in trouble today. Richards will probably call her."

He already had.

"I'm not looking forward it." A dull ache was starting behind my eyes, and the voices were starting to get in. "I'm going to have to clean out the stillroom. Again."

"What I am going to get?"

"Attic," I answered, quickly. She grimaced; she hated it up there.

_And them? _

"No boys." Her eyes bugged out; this was new for Jo. "For a week."

"Even Dana? Did she get caught blowing some guy in gym? Come on to Mr. Richards?" Her eyebrows wagged suggestively."You know how much she likes old Principal Richards."

"Dana too, but I don't know why."

"Hmm, how will they survive?" Lila peeked over her shoulder at our cousins, "God, they look so depressed, you'd think someone died." With her fork, she stabbed a chunk of chicken and waved it in front of her like a paint brush. "I think I'll call this painting The Death of Popularity."

"My condolences," I murmured, lifting a carrot stick to my mouth, chewing it thoughtfully.

She was right. The two of them were practically in mourning. Lila was an outcast, artists always were. I, well, I was never going to be anyone's idea of a friend. We were used to rejection, they weren't.

"Any chance I can talk my way into cleaning the stillroom with you?"

Ignoring Dana and Vi, I pinched my fingers together in front of her face. "A small one... if you're really nice about it."

We spent the rest of our lunch like we always did, Lila drawing on my arm while I told her about something I had read the night before, but the whispering and pointing was harder to ignore today. Every eye, it seemed, was on us, watching, judging and gossiping.

"Ever wonder why Jo makes us go to school anyway?" Lila asked, shaking out her left hand, before continuing her design. "Between her and Nik we'd learn more than we ever would here."

"I think it's so we don't miss out on life experiences... or something like that."

"I could do without the experience of high school," she muttered, throwing a filthy look at a group of girls who had been staring far too long.

"I don't think we're the only ones who feel like that."

For once, I was grateful for the bell that ended lunch. At least I was grateful until I saw my locker. Across the thickly painted surface was a word, black and huge:

WITCH


	13. Dark Days

**A/N: Hello! Once again the gaps between postings are looking less like gaps and more like the grand canyon. Nevertheless, a new chapter is waiting just below. I'd like to thank Project Team Beta for doing such a bang up job of getting me (and my chapter) in line and you, lovely and patient readers, for still sticking around. **

**Disclaimer: Publicly recognized Twilight characters are not mine (though most of them in this chapter are) but belong to SM. I just borrow them, twist them and jam them into my plots.  
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**Enjoy.**

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><p>"Dark days." -L'enfantde Paris, 1913.<p>

Nana Cora's POV

As the pile of books, trinkets and scrolls burst into flames I watched, mentally reliving the memories imprinted on them and knowing that I would share a similar fate. Strangely, I felt no remorse, only urgency. _Better me than her. _

I had seen the world turn in on itself and watched harmony give way to chaos. History came in waves, my mother had told me long ago. The same atrocities were committed with a different excuse for committing them. The innocent pay and the guilty go free. Another wave was coming.

"And this Cora? What about this?"

"No, not that," I answered, moving closer to fire, feeling its warmth on my skin and the dewy grass beneath my feet.

Hate made a home in the hearts of men and demons , but there was also beauty, and love. I made sure to reminded myself of that. An unending life is a painful one, though sprinkled with fleeting sweetness, it is too easy to lose sight of the good things. Too easy to become hard and cynical.

"But..."

"It belongs to her," I told her simply.

She made an indigent noise behind my back, set the book down on the garden table and came to stand beside me. Muttering under her breath, she watched the fire consume it all.

"I don't see why you're doing this. All of it... it could show her who she is... Bella would know everything."

"She will."

"The sooner the better. I can't stand the way that girl looks at me."

"It is not without reason," I answered sharply, deep-seated anger rising hotly.

"Yes," she huffed, wiping her hands on her thighs, "but I had my reasons as well. I have the right mind to just tell her and be damned." The fire light glinted off the gold at her wrists and ears. She was older than I and still she had learned nothing.

"You forget that you already are."

"Stupid child," she spat, her black eyes angry.

"Careful, that child-"

"I know. _You_ don't need to remind _me._"

"See that you do not forget it."

The fire died slowly, and in the grey light of dawn all that remained was a sooty pile of ashes. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...

"Come, there isn't much time."

As I walked through the back door, I caught my reflection in the window pane, paused and sighed. The face did not reflect my many years, but I felt each of them keenly with each step, with each minute that passed. Gathering myself I stepped inside, without a second glance. The house was nearly empty; tables stood without their candles, charms and frames. No amulets hung in the windows. No herbs flanked my door. No spells protected me from my fate. The looking glass was in pieces, unusable, and my sapphire pendulum was hidden deep with the book I now held in my hands.

"Are you sure about this, Cora?" she asked, hovering over my left shoulder as I made my way to the nearly empty stillroom.

"Yes, I am." I thought of the signs: blood moon, a dying sun, dhampir, burning veins. When Bella described her encounter with the dark man in the woods I knew the time had come for her to take my place. All things must come to an end, but in the ending something new is born.

This time, this road, this war... this pain, it would be the making of her.

"You could..." The words trailed off, the thought abandoned.

"No." Without sparing her a glance I set the book down on the weathered wood.

The Blood Moon was almost upon us, and I had little time to waste. It was strange to think that the last time I stepped into this room with such a purpose, Bella had been a babe crying in my arms, wiggling to get free. Casting aside the memory I gathered a few things: some ink, an old quill I hadn't used in a decade, and my jewel tipped needle. The book and its pages sighed both in sadness and joy as I put my fingers to them. With the quill and ink I wrote out my final message to the girl and hoped that she would understand and forgive us. I wrapped the book in thick brown paper and tied a sprig of rosemary to the package with a sash of blue raffia. A small prick of my finger and blood welled to the surface. With it I wrote her name, the name her mother had given her.

Isabella Marie

Out of the corner of my eye I saw two black brows rise in indignation.

"I wasn't going to open it. You didn't need to seal it that way."

"One can never be too careful. Blood for blood, mine for hers." Her aunts had done the same, her mother and father. Our lives for hers. "The book will take from her as well."

She looked skeptical and nervous, but I had little time for either of those things and handed her the package. "You will not disobey. Stay close. She will need you."

With a solemn nod she took what I offered and left my house.

There was nothing to do but wait, and wait I did, watching the sun move across the sky as I sat among my flowers. A charred scent hung in the air, choking the sweet scent of lilies and bluebells. Fire consumes all life. The knowledge that soon it would consume me as well did not fill me with fear or bitterness. I had no urge to run or hide. Truth be told, I was ready. Willing.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, return to the mother we all must.

I thought of Bella, of her sweet and sad eyes, and how innocent they looked the day she was born and how quickly the shadow of pain grew over them. She was a baby when Priscilla took her away, gone for years and then a young girl took her place. At first I was not sure the little witch would remember me-she had been too young, and many years had passed, but she knew who I was. She came to me, timidly, but she came.

She looked so much like her mother I thought I had strayed into the past.

_Nana Cora_, she had whispered so softly the wind threatened to drown her out. _I missed you._

To think I had held that girl in my arms moments after she was born, kissed her forehead and cheeks after a long bout of tears, seen the life that waited for her... My darling girl. My one regret was that I could not be there to guide and help her.

"Cora," a deep voice rang out in the stillness of the night.

"Fitting," I responded, turning to face him, "that they would send you for me, when they sent you to spy on her... to gain her trust."

Beneath his dark hood, red eyes flashed with anger. "No one sent me to her," he growled, " to spy or otherwise."

"Am I to believe that you were motivated by the goodness in your heart? Is there any left at this point? Tell me, how many centuries does it take to poison a good man?"

"Not sure that I was ever good." He removed the hood but didn't draw closer.

"You were, once."

"Believe what you want, Cora." The anger dissipated, and his regal posture sagged as he spoke. "I had to see her with my own eyes, talk to her...see if she...She did not know me. She doesn't know."

"No, but you expected that."

"I didn't know who or what to expect," he rasped, stepping into the light of the moon. "She is extraordinary. So much power unrealized, untapped... She will be a force to be reckoned with."

I nodded, feeling a quick rush of pride.

"If they don't kill her first."

"If they don't kill her first...which, of course, you will do everything in your power to keep from happening."

He did not answer me, and for a long moment I stared into his eyes, the eyes of my doom. Though the color was morbid, red like blood, like fire, there was no trace of malice or hate. Only indecision, and if I looked carefully, pain. Perhaps there was good left in him.

I sighed, "Do it fast, it will be easier that way... for the both of us."

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><p><strong>AN: Dun Dun Dunnnnn!**

**Thank you for reading. (= **


	14. Blood Moon

**A/N: Well, here is the next chapter. I hope that you enjoy it. I would like to thank the lovely ladies over at Project Team Beta for helping me clean up my messy chapter. **

**Disclaimer: Twilight and characters belong to SM. **

***Side Note* October 8th** **a blood moon will appear in the sky. You don't want to miss it!**

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><p><em>"Tragedy." -Hoodoo Ann, 1916<em>

BPOV

"Richards should do something about it," Lila commented between bites of her apple, scratching the word with her fingernail.

It was bigger today.

"Just leave it. They'll only do it again. I don't even care anymore."

"Liar," she accused.

Without answering, I got the books I'd need over the weekend and shoved them into my bag. Around us, the wing was loud and bursting with the kind of energy that was synonymous with Fridays. Armed with bags, synthetic cobwebs, huge spiders, and tacky glitter skeletons ,the ASB transformed the school. Any surface that wasn't a bank of lockers had been plastered with painted signs promoting the Halloween dance.

"You know who's doing it. Why not dish out a little . . .pay back?"

A group of cheerleaders walked by, their eyes glaring at us like a stain on their pristine white uniforms. Jane Conrad spat her daily insult as her band of idiots laughed. Together, like marionettes, they tossed their heads, sending their ponytails swinging. Cheerleaders. If any one group was inherently evil, it was them.

"I'd rather ignore it." Her irritation with me penetrated the metal door, and mentally, she began concocting her own brand of justice: slimy toads in their beds, itchy rashes in hard to reach places, severe acne, and bouts of uncontrollable gas. "You'll get caught then you won't be able to go to the dance."

"Oh, no, not the dance. Take anything... my bike, my pens and markers... but not the dance." She dissolved into cackles, startling a group of freshmen boys staring at her. Lila winked and threw them a kiss before slamming my locker closed and linking her arm with mine. Together, we walked toward freedom, finally. The October air was chilly, the sky's murky hue cast a pall over the streets, and those boys were still watching Lila with a mixture of fear and lust.

"I know you saw me going, but I wouldn't go if they paid me." Ignorant of the fantasies spinning in her wake, Lila elbowed my ribs gently. "Dana and Vi are going, you know."

I knew. They went every year.

"I might be persuaded to go," she hedged, "if Nate could go with me."

She had obviously forgotten what Halloween was like in this place, let alone at a school dance. I said nothing and continued walking toward home, bypassing the student parking lot altogether. Lila gave me a knowing look; the condition of Dana getting a car was she give us a ride to and from school. Since owning said car, she had taken us to school twice and home once.

"Nate is a good dancer, you know."

I knew.

"Would you go, if you could go with... you know?"

"No, never. I can think of a million other things to do on Halloween."

"With him?"

I paused, wondering what it would be like. Since Jo gave me back those memories, Carlisle was always in my thoughts, working quietly in a corner with a loving smile on his face. "Yes," I answered finally.

Instead of going straight home, we decided to swing by the library to peruse the Friday shipment and visit Nik afterward. As we passed jack-o'-lanterns, cobweb draped houses, and mailboxes, Lila picked up the conversation we had started at lunch but had not been able to finish.

"He was fine, and then he got weird."

Nate and Lila talked every night, without fail, at seven. These calls lasted for hours-long hours of conversations that consisted of very few words. Mostly ,they listened to each other do things: paint, tune a guitar, homework, even dishes. I didn't understand how someone, anyone, could find that interesting.

The library was closed; the little note in the window said "Back in five minutes," but everyone knew five minutes meant tomorrow. We turned toward the boardwalk, where Nik's shop sat, deciding that the books could wait another day.

"He just sounded... distracted and confused," she was saying as the bell on the door announced our arrival. "He kept saying 'The blue house . . . watch the blue house.' "

"I don't know, maybe he has a lot on his mind. School... Or he's not sleeping well. Nik?" I called out, looking around at the empty shop. Usually the bell brought him out.

"Who says things like that? What blue house? His is made of logs. Bells, it was like he was _seeing_ something else." Lila shook her head and added privately, _It was like talking to_ _you during one of those damn visions._

I ignored her comment, momentarily distracted by a strange prickling over my skin like a million spider legs. "Onkel?"

He didn't answer, nor did his thoughts. He wasn't here.

_Maybe he stepped out?_

Lila disappeared around the back, where he did most of his work, and I moved around the various finished projects, wood samples, books,and toys. The shop was old, as most things were in this town, and it smelled like the woods -like my uncle: Cedar and Pine, Oak and Poplar. From where I stood, I could see the photo Nik loved but never explained, no matter how much we begged. For as long as I could remember, it hung there beneath the massive carved sign that read Durchstreifen. He rarely spoke of his family before us, but that photo of him and his brothers, all three of them wrapped in their father's arms, said all that needed to be said.

Walking around to the front counter, I found a package addressed to me, wrapped in brown paper, and underneath it a note.

"Lila," I called out, reading my uncle's bold writing. "He went home and asked us to close up for him."

_I'll lock up the back._

"Cool." I locked the register, retrieved my uncle's keys from where he kept them and scooped up my package. Lila came out a few minutes later, her eyes unfocused and mind running a four-minute mile.

"What is it?" Again, I felt that feeling... something was off, shifted somehow.

"Nothing." She shook her head. _He was in the middle of a project_, she thought, seeing the planer and a curl of wood dripping down the side of the workbench. "It feels weird in here..."

I nodded. "I feel it too, Lila, but it's not the shop."

Truthfully, I felt it the moment I woke up.

We shut off the lights, flipped over the sign, and locked the door. Despite how much I liked taking the long way home, we stuck to the road. Neither of us said it, burdened by both the odd foreboding and our schoolbooks, but a nervous and urgent energy propelled us toward home. The package I had found on the counter was heavy in my arms and as much a mystery as to why my uncle had abandoned the shop without bothering to close up. It wasn't like him.

This whole day had been like waiting to exhale . . . A black bird found its way into the house early this morning and circled up and down the staircase, squawking and knocking for hours. A sign that death was not far behind. It put us all on edge. Jo was so nervous, she broke two frames and, marbled vase trying to get it out. Another bird, black as well, flew into my English class window, over and over. The dull thudding was unnerving, but not as unnerving as the soft and sorrowful wailing (that only I seemed to be able to hear) that started just after lunch.

The ground beneath our feet went from asphalt to crunchy gravel, and in the distance, our house rose against the autumn sky, tall and draped in red ivy. Frantically, I searched the house for my aunt and uncle: mundane thoughts, soft humming, anything. When I found them I felt instantly relieved; my shoulders dropped and a slow smile spread across my face. Then I heard more voices, familiar but unexpected ones, and the tension was back. Noticing the change in my posture, Lila quirked her brow at me in question.

"What is it?" she asked, looking from the house to me.

At that moment, my aunt realized we were home and warned the others in a clipped tone.

Through her eyes, I saw our kitchen and whom she had been talking to. Before I could answer Lila, the front door opened, the screen door banging loudly as Nate came rushing out, half running across the lawn. Behind him, Juliana, Jo, and Nik appeared, trying to maintain a casual and natural aura. Each mind was a fog of diversions expertly crafted and impossible to read quickly. Noah stepped out just in time to see his twin clutch Lila to his chest like a life vest.

When I caught his eye, he looked down at his feet. Gone was the cocky smile and the usual unabashed thoughts.

The wailing grew just a little louder.

xXXx

Juliana left shortly after, leaving behind her two sons and an apology. Jo was a fortress, even if I had all the time in the world to wade through the maze of her thoughts, I wouldn't have found more than the fact that Noah and Nate would be staying with us, indefinitely. Dinner was quiet, even with two extra people and so much mystery, not to mention the constant wailing I was convinced my aunt could hear, if only through my thoughts. An atmosphere of melancholy and anxiety hung above us like storm clouds waiting to break. From the wide-eyed looks and questions my cousins were throwing at me, they felt it too. Or perhaps I was projecting it on them.

Nate and Noah said very little, and their thoughts had the same labyrinthine design as Jo's. I wanted to ask, but each time I opened my mouth, Nik would look over at me with reproach.

Instead, I moved peas around my plate, feeling a bit more irritated as the minutes ticked by.

Plates emptied,and one by one, they excused themselves. Nate went outside and Lila followed, determined to make him talk. Vi and Dana left the table together, whispering in conspiring tones like twins in, room full of strangers. As my uncle and aunt cleared the dishes, Noah slipped away without sparing me a glance or word. Then, it was just me. No thoughts. No clanking cutlery.

Just me and a million questions. Like always.

In my room, I paced, and Carlisle paced right along with me. What was I missing? What had happened? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the package, its raffia bow and fragrant sprig of rosemary. The package laid on my desk, innocent, still in its soft and old wrappings.

Who would send me something, I mused, but more importantly, why?

Carlisle leaped onto the desk, his glossy black coat shining as he looked from it to me, almost saying, _This is the only mystery you can solve tonight. Open it. Now._

Not being one to ignore my own curiosity, or my cat, I reached for the bow and tugged. The paper fell away easily and lying underneath was a book much like the one my mother had left me, like the one downstairs in the still room, though bigger and twice as thick. To say it looked old would have been an understatement. It was ancient and smelled of dried roses and sage and some other herb I couldn't place but tugged at my memory. I flipped pages eagerly, happy to have some form of distraction-even if only for a moment.

It was a beauty, leather supple with a stamped vine pattern. Inside, in addition to spells and incantations, I found stories and illustrations, handwritten and hand-drawn. My fingers caressed the pages; my eyes skimmed through words and names like: Hypatia, Huldra, wraiths, circulum tutelae, and Bean Sidhe. At those words, my curiosity was piqued, and with the keening ringing in my ears, I read the story of the Wailing Spirit.

She was rarely seen, but she was a fairy, and her mourning cries were heard at the passing of a loved one or very near to their passing. To hear the call of the Bean Sidhe was to know death, the book said, and once heard, it would always be heard. A shiver raced down my spine as I read those words, the wail piercing the silence.

"I heard you; no need to yell at me," I muttered, casting my eyes around the room.

The writing changed halfway through the story to a different hand and language, so I moved on in search of something else to read. Strange languages wove in and out of pages like threads on a tapestry, each more intricate than the last. Some I could read, others I felt in my heart, in my veins. Bookmarks of all kinds stuck out at all angles, bejeweled, fraying, and stamped metal.

One stabbed my finger, and I brought it to my mouth, tasting blood. "Shit."

A gust of fresh sea air blew in through the open window, and as if that wind had fingers, flipped the pages violently back to the very first. I rushed to hold the pages down, should the wind get any more ideas, and noticed I was bleeding on the book, but there were no stains. I watched, transfixed, as drops landed on the page, spread, then sank into the very paper without a trace. Just below where the droplets had been, a message gradually appeared.

_Everything comes back to the beginning. The truth you seek is within; you need only the courage to find it. May She who is the Mystery of the Waters and the White Moon among the stars guide you with her light, lend her strength to you, and help you find yourself._

"Mystery of the Waters," I whispered. Inexplicably, I felt a rush of nostalgia so strong I felt tears welling up in my eyes and a sharp longing in my chest. By chance, if only because of the words I had just read and the feelings they woke, I glanced at the moon.

There it hung, in the same place as always. But tonight... it was red. Deep red and full.

The Blood Moon.

_It's starting,_ Jo thought from downstairs, looking up at the ominous face in the sky. The thought wasn't directed at me, it was an internal acknowledgment of what was happening around us. To us. My uncle came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, melding his concern and thoughts with hers until they were one.

In this state, the iron grip on her thoughts relaxed, and I saw the news Juliana brought along with her twins.

"No." I exhaled, looking back down at the book, understanding all at once where it came from. I sank into the chair. In my ears, the Bean Sidhe pitched her voice higher, the depth of her lament echoing mine. Carlisle nudged my face with his silky head in an attempt to comfort me, but it was useless.

Nana Cora was dead, and there was no consolation.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. With any luck I'll have the next one out by Halloween!**

**XX**

**Autumn**


	15. The Witches of Maine

**A/N: Another update, just in time for Halloween? Yeah, that was wishful thinking but Halloween should last a whole lot longer than one night. Two whole months of Halloween? Anyone? Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter. As always, thank you all for sticking around, reading and being so very kind. And a HUGE thank you to the ladies/gents over at Project Team Beta for being grammar/punctuation wizards. **

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight and its characters. I own this plot and all non-publicly know characters in this story. **

**Happy Reading!**

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><p><em>"She looked so sad—I wish there was something I could do for her." —Lazybones, 1925<em>

Noah's POV

Bella watched silently as I leaned against the smooth bark, wincing against the stabbing pain in my side. We had been running all morning; her to escape the grief and me to escape it with her. I didn't think running would be so hard, but with the frigid air in my lungs and her unwavering endurance I learned that running was pure hell. I had lost her twice and had only caught up to her now because she waited for me.

"Thanks for waiting," I told her as soon as I caught my breath.

She shrugged. "I saw you getting lost out here."

I nodded and looked around, intimidated by the gnarled and naked limbs of the Black Tree woods. I had always been at home in the forest, but here, surrounded by these trees and the prospects of getting lost, I was thankful that she had waited.

"I sure as hell wouldn't want that to happen."

Sweat had curled the hair around her face, and though her deep, brown eyes were on me, I knew she was somewhere else. A million miles away from me.

"What are you seeing?" I wanted to ask her, but I knew she wouldn't say. I asked another question instead, "Are you okay?"

Her eyes focused and the look she gave said "no" but her mouth said nothing. It was a sharp contrast from last night. She had been angry, visibly shaken and hurt by the news she had uncovered. I had been against keeping it from them, so had Nate, but the adults had outweighed us. Jo had made the final decision and thus taking the full brunt of Bella's wrath. Vi, Dana and Lila agreed with her, but even must-have-the-last-word Dana was too shocked by the death to argue.

When Bella had slammed the book on the table, upsetting the flowers there, Jo'd just stared at it. It confirmed everything Nate had said, everything he had dreamed about.

"All this time, you knew it would happen. Bella stared at her aunt through watery eyes. You knew what it meant . . . that she'd give this to me? You knew and you let me drive myself half-crazy trying to puzzle it out. You let me think I could do something."

"I did not know," Jo had explained.

"But you suspected!"

"I did, but so did you. People die all the time." Jo'd told her, gently. "We cannot change that. As much as it may hurt, you need to come to terms with it.

"She didn't die. Someone killed her . . . there's a difference."

I had my doubts up to that moment. Nate had never "seen" anything. We had never possessed any magical inclination, but then, about a week ago, he'd begun having these episodes — visions my mother called them when we told her. The book made it real, for all of us. Our books, they were precious and passed down through generations; lineages could be traced through them.

Bella had two books — never a good thing for such a young witch.

Pain burrowed in my chest, the gap left by Cora's death wide and raw. How could she be gone? Since the beginning it had been a common misconception that _all_ witches lived forever. Stories circulated for centuries that we made stews of blood and marrow sucked from the bones of children to keep us young and strong, but that was bullshit —though we did and do live longer than most. Now, only a few of us have the gift of imortality and the ones that do have a choice; they can choose to live forever as an Elder or let nature take her course. Cora chose the life of an Elder; a teacher and a guide, and often times, a parent to us all. This was the life of an Elder, their purpose. Suns and moons rose and fell on them, years passed and age neither sickness took them. Elders didn't die, unless killed.

The sound of sniffling pulled me from my thoughts. Bella's cheeks and lashes were wet, her lips caught between her teeth. As she stood in front of me, crying, I felt something burn and spread from my stomach out into my limbs. It was immobilizing, sickening, and left a bitter taste in my mouth: I realized then that it was guilt, not grief, that she was trying to escape. She was drowning in it.

Bella looked away before heading off into the forest toward home. I suspected she was ashamed to have let me in. I followed, matching her pace. After a minute or two, I slipped my hand into hers. She flinched, surprised, and my palm stung like hell but I didn't pull away.

"We've known each other for four years now but we've never gotten close. Our families are close but you and I have never been friends, have we?" I asked softly, knowing that she wasn't going to answer me. "I haven't made it easy, but I can be better. We can be good friends . You can trust me, I already promised to keep your secret. I won't change my mind. I know I can trust you...I can't imagine how many secrets you've heard but never repeat. "

I glanced at her face and frowned; I had a knack for reading faces but Bella was impossible to read. "I can't promise anything about the flirting," I joked, half-heartedly. When she didn't laugh my thoughts turned serious, dwelling on the unmasked pain I had seen on her face not five minutes ago. We were all hurting, but this was so much bigger than a murdered loved one and Bella understood this better than anyone.

"What do you say —friends?"

She didn't answer me with words, but her posture changed slightly; the rigid set of her shoulders relaxed, her fingers curled around mine in a subtle acceptance of what I offered her. I took it as a good sign. We walked for a while, through the twisted trees and howling wind, before I attempted to comfort her.

_You couldn't have known. It's not your fault. This guilt . . . it's hurting you._

"I should've known." Her voice was fierce. Bella looked up at me, tears gone; resolve took their place. "I will the next time."

_You can't make yourself responsible for this, it's too much._

"What's the alternative?"

_It's not fair._

Carefully, she pulled her hand out of my grasp and shoved both into the pockets of her jacket. "No one cares about that."

It began to rain softly, a fine mist that fell over us like a cold blanket. The rest of the way we walked in silence; I couldn't help but wonder if it was true.

xXXx

The rest of the week went by in a monotonous blur. High school, it seemed, was the same on any coast. The only saving grace to the boredom was second period Honors Lit. When I walked into Ms. Beever's class that first morning, book under my arm, Bella was sitting in the back. That sweet face was almost enough to make up for the honors class I had somehow been placed in. Almost.

School was oppressive, but our home life was exactly what you'd expect from living with five witches and a gypsy —free and full. Nik and Jo mostly left us to our own devices, except for dinner —which we all ate together, no excuses —and the occasions where Nik taught the girls things; German, music, fighting, particularly with a blade. On those occasions Jo stood on the back porch, watching in disapproval. A woman must learn to protect herself, he reasoned with his wife, and Jo never had a response for that. Spells and lessons, stories and music were all woven together in this house, naturally, organically and triggered by ebb and flow of life.

As a child they seemed so exotic and other worldly to me, these witches of Maine, and while they still were those things, living with them I realized that the family dynamic was like that of many others. They fought and made up, they all cared for each other and love was always felt —more so now that everyone was in mourning. I suspected they had more in common with the townspeople than either side realized.

Friday morning I woke to fog, orange leaves and an agitated grey sea. When I stepped out into the hall I could hear Bella talking to her cat as she got ready for school, Vi was banging on the bathroom door in t-shirt and shorts, music was blaring out of Lila's room, and Nik was calling us all for breakfast. It was a typical morning in this house, and in such a short time I had gotten used to all of it.

"Are you ready for a Black Tree Halloween?" Bella asked quietly as we walked out into the chilly morning. Even in her blue coat, tights and boots, she shivered.

Behind her, the house played its part. Both in honor of All Hallows Eve and in Cora's memory. Jo had decked the house in garlands of tiny white flowers and sage leaves, deep blue ribbons and a huge wreath of various herbs and plants and those little white flowers adorned the door.

My brother and Lila had already started on their walk to school, leaving Bella and I alone. Shrugging, I tucked my hands into my pockets. "Sure, is it any different from Halloween anywhere else?"

She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "You'll see. Everything is different here."

True to her word, it was. The town came out in spades; costumes, candy, games, and a midnight celebration that had the townspeople giddy. All of it was centered around the notion that on this day the founding fathers saved their people from the wickedness of the Witch Osborn. There would be a festival tonight, running throughout the town and culminating in the square where, from a limb of Black Tree's namesake, a stuffed doll dressed as a witch hung swaying in the breeze. It was as if, for one day, we were thrust into the past. On this day, for as long as they had lived in Maine, the girls endured everything from taunts to nasty little concoctions of St. John's wort and bottles of urine tossed at them. Dana and Vi were usually excluded from this, saved by what Lila referred to as a wilting popularity. This year, however, brought change.

Jo knew the moment we stepped over the threshold that the day had not gone well. During English a boy had dumped suspiciously yellow fluid over Bella's head, laughing along with his classmate as it soaked into her hair and clothes and her neck broke out in hives. The look in her eyes was murderous, and it took every ounce of restraint she had to let him walk away unscathed. Lila spent the better half of third period in the principal's office after punching a boy for hanging a dozen nooses on her easel. Dana and Vi were dumped by their boyfriends in front of the entire cafeteria. Nate and I were guilty by association —shunned but not taunted.

"How was school?" Jo asked tentatively.

Both Dana and Vi seethed, glaring at Lila who was pleased with their misery and made no effort to hide it. To an outsider, Lila might seem like a cruel person but she was a champion of solidarity. In her opinion, they had been on the sidelines for too long, leaving her and Bella alone against the idiots.

"Same as every year, Jo . . . only this year they got a little taste." Lila pulled Nate towards the kitchen. "Did Nik make any more of those cherry oatmeal bars?"

"They're in the pantry, top shelf," Jo answered dismissively. "What happened? Do I need to call Richards?"

Instead of answering, Dana and Vi brushed past Bella and I, climbing the stairs and complaining about how much they hated this town and how they couldn't wait to leave. One more year, Dana vowed, one more year.

Jo looked back at us, expectantly.

"I'd rather forget the day and Principal Richards already knows." Bella shook her head in disgust, scratching at her neck. Her skin was bright red and irritated by this morning's concoction. "I'm going to shower. Again."

As she passed Jo placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and recommended a chamomile soap. After exchanging a few words with Jo and snagging one of those cherry oatmeal bars, I went upstairs. From my room I could hear the shower running; I tried reading, but I kept thinking about her in the shower, wet and glistening. Then the singing started. That soft humming coming from down the hall was too distracting to do anything but listen, and the song . . . .It was magic.

xXXx

Jo and Nik had plans and left the house after reminding us to "have fun and be safe." Dana and Vi were still locked in their rooms and Lila and Nate were enjoying their privacy in the back yard, leaving Bella and I alone for the evening.

When the car lights faded Bella closed and locked the door, leaning her back against it. "And then there were two . . . three," she added with a smile as Carlisle, her cat, came to stand next to her.

"What do you want to do?" I asked, eyeing the black feline as he curled around her leg, purring loudly.

Smiling down at the fur ball, she bent and picked him up, holding him to her chest like a newborn. Those icy blue eyes fell on me for a second before rolling away, uninterested. The damn cat didn't seem to like me very much.

"I don't know, we could listen to music . . . " She trailed off, scratching the back of her calf with her foot. Her toenails, I noticed, were a midnight blue that made her skin look as pale as milk. "Or watch a movie. I think we have movies."

"You think? How could you not know." I teased.

"Shut up. I'll go get some snacks. You can pick the movie." She padded down the hall toward the kitchen and I couldn't help but notice how sexy her legs looked moving under her thin dress. I started fantasizing about running my hand from ankle to thigh, imagining how soft her skin would be, when I felt a sudden and sharp pinch in my arm. "Keep your eyes and your fantasies to yourself."

"Friends can't check each other out? Damn these rules, I'll never learn them all."

"You better start."

"Only if you tutor me," I called back as I made my way to the living room.

The laugh that reverberated through the house was an indulgent one, a sound that encouraged our budding friendship.

I had been surprised enough that they owned a TV, yet alone a DVD player. It seemed to go against the grain of their entire upbringing. When I asked, Nik confessed that he'd bought it as a giftr after selling a rather pricey bedroom set, but , only Dana and Vi got any use from the thing. Mostly it sat in the corner reflecting the room like a black mirror. In a large carved bookcase I found the movies and picked out three of the scariest ones for her to choose from. I laid them out on the coffee table and sat down to wait for her, observing the room fully.

As a child I had played in this house, but I had never really noticed the things in it. Or how perfect it was.

In the position the house sat, partially facing the sea, the living room was flooded with light during the day and illuminated by the moon at night. A curtain of tiger eye beads hung from the window, behind the gauzy yellow curtains. Protection, no doubt, I thought, resting my feet on the scarred coffee table. The couch was comfortable, stacked with soft pillows in a variety of patterns and colors. The walls were blue, matching the dark tone of the wood floors and moldings. The scent of herbs; lavender, thyme and sage, hung in the air, along with the crackle of the burning wood in the fireplace. Everywhere I looked I saw traces of the girls, of Jo and Nik: a book left open on an armchair, a half-finished sweater in a deep purple yarn, a sketch book and stray pencils, a glossy magazine with some heartthrob on the cover, a violin laid carefully on its stand, and several nail polishes on the window seat.

This wasn't just a house. It was a home passed down from generation, a safe haven.

"We like it," Bella agreed coming into the room, setting down the bowl of pretzels and the pitcher of tea.

I frowned. For some reason I had imagined something a little more festive.

"Chocolate covered pretzels and I made tea."

_The witches of Maine eat chocolate? _They all ate so healthy; every meal consisted of mostly vegetables. And meat, that was becoming a distant memory. What did a guy have to do to get a burger and fries?

"Walk about two miles to Mackie's," she suggested, reading my thoughts, pulling out two glasses from her dress pockets and filling each. "Jo doesn't like junk food, so we've all gotten used to not having any . . . some more than others —Nik loves chocolate." Bella watched with apologetic eyes as I took a sip. "We don't have Coke either."

It was cool and refreshing with a hint of mint and lemon. I nodded. "It's tasty."

"Good. And because it's Halloween," she hedged, putting her hands behind her back for show. "Candy corn."

She produced the bowl out of thin air, and I felt like a child again, witnessing magic for the first time. My mother always liked to whip out her magic tricks for us, especially with the homemade candy corn. I hadn't let myself think about it too much; leaving your children at a safe house was what our kind did right before they disappeared. My mom and I didn't have the best of relationships, but the thought of never see her again made my chest hurt.

"Thanks Bella," I swallowed, hard. "I needed a taste of home."

"I know," she replied quietly, sitting down next to me.

We never got to the movies. Just as I put one in and settled on the couch next to her, Dana and Viola came downstairs. Dana took one look at us and laughed, "Putting the moves on Bella isn't going to work, Noah. Give it up; you've been trying for years."

"It's pointless since Bella is basically asexual." Vi smiled wickedly. "Wait, I forgot about Carlisle, the imaginary boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"But he is imaginary, dear."

"He's real."

"Sure he is, sure he is." Vi assured sarcastically, before turning toward the kitchen.

I had heard the name once or twice since I'd arrived but had always assumed they were talking about the cat. I never imagined that he was a person. "So...Carlisle?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Does he live in town?" I asked, eager to know more about my competition. Instead of defeated, I felt oddly bolstered by the fact that he didn't seem to actually exist.

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

She got up and I followed, once again admiring her legs. For such a short girl her legs were pretty long.

"Cut it out before I really hit you," she grumbled, stomping down the hall toward the commotion in the kitchen.

"No one asked you to listen."

"You think loudly. It's hard to ignore."

Dana was busy raiding the refrigerator when we came in and Viola was on the phone placing an order for two pizzas

"Why won't you tell me about this Carlisle character?" I asked, sitting at the table. "We're friends now, and friends talk about these kinds of things."

"Not this."

"Come on Bella, we all want to hear about your prince," Dana joked, pulling out cheese and a loaf of bread. "How's he doing these days?"

Bella clenched her fits at her sides but remained quiet. I assumed, by the look on her face, that this was nothing new and immediately felt like an ass for encouraging this.

"He must be so lonely without you."

Hanging up the phone, Vi added, "Tell us about his kind eyes and golden hair."

"His smooth skin and comforting voice."

Muttering in German she turned her back on all three of us and went outside, the screen door slamming with the force of her anger. While she was gone Dana told me everything she knew; how Bella drew pictures of him, how she dreamt of him and how no one had ever seen him besides Bella.

"She hardly ever talks about him now —"

"While she's awake, you mean."

" —but anytime that we go somewhere new, I swear she scans the crowd for him. Like he'd be there...waiting for her." Vi said, between bites of pink and white cookies.

"You know she wishes for him every summer at the bonfire, without fail. It's sad."

I remembered the bay leaf, the warmth and longing in her eyes. "She loves him."

"She loves an idea, a ghost she made up when she was six."

The door opened suddenly, startling all three of us. Through it walked my brother, Bella and Lila. The scene they walked in on brought a glint of mischief to Lila's eyes; Vi hugging a box of circus animal cookies and Dana leaning over a hastily made sandwich.

"One Friday night without dates and you guys binge out on junk food." Lila smirked, turning to Bella, "The death is a slow one, long and drawn out."

"I'll eat what I like when I like," Vi announced, eating yet another pink frosting-coated cookie.

"Just as long as Jo isn't home."

Nathan draped his arm around Lila's waist. "I'm sure we can find something better to do on Halloween than stand around the kitchen."

We ended up in the attic, though at whose suggestion I couldn't be sure. Candles were lit, balanced on old trunks and dusty tables, the floor and window sill. Both pizzas and a slew of junk food littered the floor; I had forgotten how good pizza was, hot and cheesy and greasy. Bella and Lila shied away from the worst of it, claiming that eating that stuff usually made them sick the following day.

"More for us."

After eating we decided to poke around. The attic was a museum of lost and forgotten things: clothes and heirlooms, old potion bottles and creepy Victorian portraits, cobwebs and their inhabitants. Vi half vanished into a wardrobe on the hunt for a game, occasionally huffing to make sure we all knew where she was. In one corner we unearthed a record player and crate full of records. Bella and Lila were flipping through them trying to decide which one to play when Dana squealed from behind an old mirror.

"Look what I found!" In one hand she held up a deep blue bottle, its handwritten label cracked and peeling.

Nate and I looked at her and the other girls, perplexed. Lila and Bella finally decided on a record, something classical and German; one of Nik's more than likely. The tell-tale pops, hisses, and crackles of vinyl filled the large space. Bella leaned back on her elbows, stretching out like a mermaid sunning herself.

"Dana, no."

"Shon Paanii!" Dana yelled with all the excitement and enthusiasm of a cheerleader. From somewhere in the wardrobe Vi hooted.

"No," Bella repeated herself, closing her eyes in frustration.

"What's Shaun Pany?" Nate asked, taking the bottle from Dana's hand to check out the label.

Lila laid her head on Bella's lap and explained to us outsiders. "_Shon Paanii_. It's a sort of spirit Nik's family used to make, famous among his people. If you can drink and keep your wits about you, you are the man —"

"Or the woman," Bella murmured.

" —but we can't, _shouldn't_ drink it."

Dana and Vi protested in unison.

"Why?" Nate removed the cork and inhaled. Immediately his eyes cut to mine with a familiar expression. We weren't stranger to spirits; our uncles made moonshine.

Bella opened her eyes, slowly. "Because it's like gypsy Absinthe."

Dana hissed ,"Who cares! Live a little Bell-a!"

"We don't even know what's in it. Nik hid that up here for a reason, and I can smell it from here."

Vi came out of the wardrobe with a thick wooden board in her hands and set it down on the trunk Nate and I had pulled into the center of the room to use as a makeshift table. "We don't need her permission. Jo and Nik won't be back until after tomorrow. Dana is the oldest, so she's in charge. If Bella doesn't want to drink it, she doesn't have to. Nate?"

Nate was curious, and after glancing at Lila, took a drink. Under his freckles he turned a shade a pink I'd never seen on my brother. "Damn, that is good."

Vi smiled and took a similar pull, shivering pleasantly as the strong liquid went down. She passed the bottle around, from me to Dana and Lila then back around. It tasted smooth, slightly sweet and surprisingly cool. After a few swallows, a nice warmth filled my chest and radiated outward. The only one who refused to drink was Bella. In all fairness, fourteen was really too young to get drunk.

"Now, we play!" Vi announced, turning the board over so it faced up. The smile on her face was wide and the gleam in her eyes was no doubt put there by the alcohol she had consumed.

One glance at the board and Dana started clapping. "Yes, lets! The veil between the living and the dead is especially weak tonight."

The Ouija board was old, beautifully carved and inlaid with some dark metal. From where I stood the planchette was pointing at the word "Goodbye" and I shivered involuntarily. My brother settled in, buzzed and smiling. Lila crawled over and sat beside him, slipping her hand into his. Figuring there was no harm in the game, I took my place next Dana, thankful for the bit of stable ground beneath me. Shon Paanii was strong. Though technically sober Bella could no doubt feel how we were all feeling —hot, uninhabited and a little reckless.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered to herself but crawled over anyways, "for so many reasons."

The music was still playing softly in the background as we each placed our fingertips on the heart-shaped pointer. At first we asked stupid things from the spirits. Who was going to be kissed tonight? _Lila_. Would Dana and Vi ever get dates in Black Tree again? _No_. Which one of us was still a virgin? The Shon Paanii was passed around again, pulling us deeper under its influence. We were laughing and joking around, spilling our inebriation on Bella who was fighting the battle to stay levelheaded.

"Of course lil' Bella is pure, but Lila?" Dana laughed, hiccuping before taking another swig of the gypsy brew.

My brother blushed beside Lila, who merely shrugged. "I know enough to know that I'm not ready, we all can't be like you."

"Or like Nate and Noah," Vi joked before bringing the bottle to her lips.

"Now," I said, determined to keep the peace, "there's no shame in waiting or not waiting. I bet tons of people wish they had —"

"No way."

"Not me."

"I do," My brother confessed.

We continued like that for a while. Was Elvis dead? _No_. And then someone got the bright idea to ask a serious question.

"Who killed Nana Cora?"

Beside me Bella sucked in mouthful of air and froze. The planchette jerked and startled each hand up and away from the smooth wood; it moved freely and slowly. We watched, stunned to silence, as it spelled out _The Hunter._

We all knew the name, the stories. The Hunter, they called themselves; men and women born with the strange and awful talent to find us... To hunt our people.

Bella's eyes grew wide, and leaning forward, whispered, "There aren't any left. They don't exist anymore."

Again, it moved, its tip pointing toward _No_.

Lila looked around the table. "I thought they all died."

"They were killed," Bella corrected, fiercely. "And the bloodlines died out."

_Yes_, the board answered.

"If they died out how can they be alive to kill anyone?"

The board took its time, dragging the planchette to each letter. _The Order_. For a full minute no one breathed, no one dared to.

"No." Dana shot up like rocket, knocking over the bottle of Shon Paanii. "This isn't funny. The Order doesn't exist. It's a bullshit story retold by old hags to scare each new generation from straying too far from our kind. Stop moving it Bella. Stop it, right now!"

"If it's bullshit why are you so scared?" Bella challenged. They glared at each other, Dana blushing wildly from having her fear called out in front of everyone. "And I'm not doing anything."

"Someone is."

"Or something," Lila added with a sideways glance at my brother.

"I don't like this game."

"You wanted to play, Vi," Bella accused.

"I didn't think it would be like this!"

"Did you think it would be like when you two idiots tried summoning George Lennon?"

"Ten guesses as to why no one answered."

Vi glared at Bella, crossing her arms over her chest. "It was supposed to be fun!"

"Are you having fun?" Lila asked, deadpan.

"Everyone," Nate said in a soothing voice, slightly slurred; his hair hanging loose around his face, "we need to calm down. Arguing will get us nowhere. We should just put the thing away and forget about it."

A chorus of Yesses rang out among the group but Bella hesitated. She was quiet, chewing on her lip. I could see the conflict in her eyes as the candle lights danced in them. She was scared, but she had questions and the opportunity to have them answered sat right in front of her. Lila saw the same thing I did.

"Bella," she breathed, holding her face between her hands, "you don't know what connection we made tonight, or with who, and asking anything else...could be dangerous. Or...this could be nothing, a lie...a trick even."

"I don't like this," Vi kept saying, growing a bit more hysterical each time.

"Don't you want to know why? Why now? Why Nana Cora? The Hunter...they were killed, Lila. And The Order, they are supposed to be a myth. It doesn't make sense."

No one spoke. The music was still playing a deep and haunting melody in the silence as Bella watched us all. "Don't any of you want to know?"

I could only speak for myself —I wanted to know.

"I don't like this! I don't like this! I don't like this!"

"If you don't shut up, Vi, I will slap you!" Lila threatened.

"Look." Nate whispered, pointing at the board.

It was spelling something out. B.E.L.L.A. I couldn't tell if it was answering, blaming or simply naming the inquisitor. Over and over it moved to those five letters, faster each time around.

_Bella_

_Bella_

_Bella_

_Bella_

"Enough!" Bella shouted, slamming her hand down on the trunk.

The planchette flew across the room, smashing against the wall. The needle on the record player jerked to the outside of the record, pouring out an eerie, dull scratching sound. Someone was breathing too fast. Every candle guttered out at once as if blown simultaneously. Curls of smoke clouded the air and a name could be heard, like a low and throaty cold whisper.

_Bella._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. **

***Shon Paanii...Moon Water in Romany Language.**

**Laters!  
><strong>

**xx**

**Autumn**


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